The sickly little one was adopted by a wealthy foreigner and became a favorite.

Winston thought the little guy would be shy around strangers and wouldn't trust him immediately.

Maybe she'll cry or something.

All you have to do is pick him up and take him home, and the little guy will cling to Winston like a stray dog ​​recognizing its owner, never letting go.

All you need to do is give the little guy a little bit of warmth and he will treat him as an important member of the family.

I will never let go again.

Winston was overwhelmed with mixed feelings.

This adorable child, his own flesh and blood...

Winston wanted nothing more than to present the little guy with the best of everything in the world, to make him understand that he was not some weed tossed around, but Winston's child, the darling of the entire family.

But now, Winston cannot express even a trace of his love, and has to painfully pull his sleeve away from the little guy's hand.

He suppressed his heartache, put on a stern face, and looked at the little guy.

The doctor said that the little guy needs to release his emotions.

So Winston wanted to make the little guy feel wronged, to let out all the fear and discomfort that had been building up inside him.

Only by letting the little guy confide in others can the memory of his mother's death not remain in his heart and become a scar for the future.

The little guy stared at his father's actions for a moment, then paused, stunned.

He clenched his empty hand in disbelief, then looked up at Winston, his expression suggesting he was about to cry.

The butler was standing nearby. He seemed to understand Winston's intentions and, like Winston, observed the little boy's expression.

But the little guy seemed to just feel a little wronged; before he even wanted to cry, he had already started comforting himself.

"Victory Little Treasure, Brave Little Treasure, Don't Cry Little Treasure..."

"If your eyes are raining, you're a bad baby. If your eyes aren't raining, you're a good baby."

Seeing that the little guy wasn't crying, Winston had no choice but to turn around and leave the room.

The little guy can't find Winston now.

"dad……"

The little guy started to panic.

He's so small, yet he had to climb out of bed by himself.

"Oh my god! Young master..."

Before the butler could finish speaking, Wutu kicked its legs and landed on the floor with its round little bottom.

He patted his bottom, as if he had hurt himself a little, but Wu Tu didn't care about crying; he had to hurry to find his father.

The butler stood behind him, protecting him, and watched the little guy walk to the door.

The little guy, still not quite used to his new limbs, was so eager that he chose to open the door with his face.

With the energy of a little dog, he used his head to pry open a crack in the door.

Then Dada rushed out, trying to stop the figure that was about to leave him.

But he walked so slowly that he couldn't keep up with his father's pace at all.

The fear of being abandoned finally made Wutu cry out.

"dad……"

"Daddy... Waaaaah!!!"

Winston's acting is almost over.

Even if the little one didn't cry, he almost couldn't bring himself to be firm. Hearing the little one's hurried footsteps on the floor, he was about to turn around.

Thankfully, the little one finally cried.

Winston immediately turned around and hugged Ulva tightly, listening to him wail in his ear.

"Waaaaah, Daddy!!!"

"Baby's scared!!! Mommy... Mommy!! Mommy doesn't want baby anymore!! Baby's all alone! So scared!"

"So much red... My eyes are so red! It's scary... Waaaaah..."

"Don't leave the baby, don't..."

As Winston listened to the little one's cries, he felt as if a huge hole had opened up in his heart, letting in a draft.

He had previously thought that he had experienced at least one-tenth of the suffering that the crow had endured.

But now that Winston has experienced it firsthand, he realizes that the little bit of suffering he knew about before was just the tip of the iceberg of what the little guy had gone through.

The little guy had experienced far more hardship than Winston could have imagined.

But the little guy kept saying it didn't hurt, that his dad was there and that all the previous hardships could be soothed.

But is it that Wu Tu doesn't want to tell his father, or that he simply doesn't dare to?

Was it the disappointment of the past ten years that led him to choose to remain silent?

What is it that makes the little one get used to silence, quietness, and being a docile and obedient invisible person?

It's okay.

Now Winston has the opportunity to see clearly, one by one, what kind of treatment the little guy has suffered, and to accompany Wu Tu through his dark childhood once again.

Winston will find out.

He would piece it all back together, piece by piece, until he had a complete and adorable little treasure.

The little one's voice became hoarse from crying, and his eyelids became red and swollen.

He kept rubbing his eyes afterwards.

I don't know whether I want to wipe away the blood flowing from my mother's eyes, or I want to get rid of that bitter feeling.

Seeing this, the housekeeper quickly got an ice pack for the little guy, wanting to cool him down.

But Winston refused.

He knew the little one wanted to see his father and didn't want his eyes covered. So he first put the little one to sleep before taking the ice pack and placing it on the little one's eyes.

"dad……"

The little guy murmured, clutching his collar tightly.

"As long as Dad is here, Dad will not leave."

Winston tried to soothe the little one in a low voice while trying to put him on the bed.

But the usually well-behaved little guy was unexpectedly clingy this time.

As soon as Winston let go, he would struggle to open his eyes.

Winston had no choice but to lie down in bed with the little one and let him sleep in his arms.

This was the first time he had slept with the little one.

Previously, Wutu, being a big kid, cared about whether she was independent and a reliable person, so she deliberately kept her distance from her father.

Even when Winston was sitting at the head of the crow's bed, the most outrageous, affectionate gesture the little guy made was holding one of Winston's fingers.

Even when the twelve-year-old Wutu wanted to act cute, she did so in a reserved manner.

She would never be like she was when she was little, with both hands tightly wrapped around her father's waist and one leg draped over him, as if hugging her most beloved toy. That little display of affection and possessiveness couldn't be more obvious.

From Winston's perspective, he could see the little guy sleeping on his chest, his eyelashes still wet and clumped together, his soft cheeks puffed out to one side, and his warm body rising and falling with his breath.

As Winston held him, he gradually noticed that the little guy's breathing and pulse were becoming synchronized with his own.

The little one grew from his flesh and blood, a life nurtured by his love.

No matter when or where, their hearts are always closely connected.

On this night filled with warmth, Winston experienced for the first time the bond between himself and his child.

This is a bond that comes from blood and can never be erased.

At this moment, Winston only wanted to swear an oath to the crow.

Dad will never abandon him.

no way.