"I bet it's Mo Xiaoxue again talking behind my back."
Cheng Ping'an was full of indignation, and the emotions in the piano melody began to shift.
The old man holding half a glass of red wine, elegantly decanting, heard the change in sound, raised an eyebrow and opened his eyes.
Watching his son mutter something unknown, the old man shivered and shouted loudly:
"Are you still distracted? Do you know that Mo Xiaoxue is way ahead of you by ten streets, and you're still having the audacity to get distracted? Ah! Cheng Ping'an!"
Cheng Ping'an was startled by the old man's shout.
Mention Mo Xiaoxue, and Cheng Ping'an just gave up.
"Dad, she has a great brother. Isn't it normal for her to be way ahead of me?"
"Look at me, haven't I also surpassed some classmates by ten streets. People, you can't compare; without comparison, there's no harm.
Dad, if you really want to compare, then compare yourself with Mo Xiaoxue's brother. As long as you can surpass him, so can your son!"
