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

"My darling, come on, open your mouth and say something~"

The doctor used a laptop to examine the little boy's throat.

"There's no inflammation, no redness or swelling, and all organ functions are normal. It's probably stress-induced aphasia."

"What he encountered was too much, an emotion that a child couldn't bear, and then he was suddenly placed in a completely unfamiliar environment. In this despair and anxiety, he may have had a stress reaction."

"It's like when a kitten or puppy gets scared or isn't used to something; it will have a stress response."

"But this condition is really very rare in children."

"Unless a major setback occurs..."

Winston looked at the child curled up in his arms, his eyelashes drooping.

He suddenly felt a sense of lingering fear.

Did he do something wrong? He shouldn't have been so direct, at least not in front of the little guy, letting him see how his so-called parents had completely abandoned him.

Winston knew exactly who was truly good to the crow.

But the little guy doesn't know that.

The three-year-old cub is still hoping for a miracle.

He didn't know that for the next ten years, his "parents" would continue to hurt him day after day, repeatedly disappointing his expectations.

He also didn't understand that some people only had extreme hatred and loathing in their eyes.

Winston couldn't help but feel guilty.

But in the past he didn't know, the little guy, who had no father to save him, still developed aphasia on the day he turned three.

In my true memory, this actually happened.

Even when he was ill, no one noticed. Only the little guy himself felt that he seemed unable to speak.

Perhaps it was because he ate the meat of the little mongrel that followed him around, or perhaps it was because his mother punished him by making him sleep on the balcony for a few days because it was too cold.

But nobody cared about him back then.

Wu Tu was already almost silent in that house; even if he didn't make a sound, his mother would only kick him impatiently and scold him.

"Are you mute?! You're not answering when I speak."

When the little guy raised his head to explain, he realized that his mother, who had just scolded him, had already rushed off to pick up her younger brother from school.

Who cares whether an insignificant child spoke or not?

They even wished the crow didn't have a beak, that it would just stay obediently in the corner and not cause them any trouble.

Later, the little guy was sent to his maternal grandmother's house in the countryside, and he overcame this situation little by little on his own.

Because with his maternal grandmother, if he didn't speak, she would think he hadn't been taught well by his mother and was ill-mannered, and she would whip him with a rattan cane.

But now, everything about the little guy is taken seriously.

Winston immediately took the little guy's hand and repeatedly told him:

"It's okay."

"It's okay..."

Even if he received a tattered little guy, Winston wouldn't feel it was a waste.

He would just pick the little guy up from the ground, piece him back together, and say, "This piece is mine, and this piece is mine too."

The little guy looked at him, and his eyes welled up with tears without him even realizing it.

Fearing that they might frighten the little one again, everyone at home made sure to walk louder to help him get used to the presence of other people in the house.

Every time Richard and his companions met the little black rabbit, they would gently squat down to greet it, gradually melting away the rabbit's wariness.

Winston often reads storybooks to the little guy and holds his hand to hold the knife and fork while eating, letting him slowly experience the pronunciation of words.

It's like teaching a newborn baby to speak.

But Winston became addicted to it and even found it enjoyable.

He would certainly be happy to witness the little guy's growth from childhood to adulthood.

He was willing to raise the child all over again, to nurture him with love and blood, and to support him with power and money.

Raise him to be a smooth, carefree kitten.

Finally, with their daily persistence, the little guy stopped being so resistant to others.

Although he still follows in his father's footsteps, at least he can eat and play with his older brothers and sisters.

Moreover, the little guy always had a vague feeling that he had now become the center of attention in that crowd.

Compared to the feeling of being ignored by family members before, the feeling of being the center of attention now is even more fantastical, so fantastical that it feels like the little guy is in a dream.

He used to be the one clinging to his dad, but now inexplicably everyone is clinging to him.

Winston now makes the little guy the center of attention, since he's always revolving around Utopia 24/7. Wherever Utopia wants to work, that's where he'll work.

However, when the little guy appears in the study with his dad, other people will slowly appear in the study.

Richard, Kaylan, Cyrus, Lilith...

Without realizing it, they started to surround the little guy, using him as the starting point.

The black cat had no way to protest and could only get used to it.

Gradually, I stopped caring.

But when he got tired of playing and was a little thirsty, he wanted to get a drink of water.

As soon as he moved, the others, as if summoned, got up and followed him one after another.

It's obvious they're treating the little guy like he's the center of the world.

It's one thing for Dad, but when it comes to everyone else, Wutu was initially overwhelmed with gratitude.

But by slowly boiling the black ox in warm water, the little guy is already oblivious and no longer feels nervous about being surrounded by a group of adults.

Just when everyone thought the little guy was developing in a positive direction, an accident shattered all of that illusion.

The incident started today when the housekeeper brought in a beautiful and exquisite afternoon tea while I was at work.

While he was serving tea to the young masters and ladies, the little guy was still engrossed in playing with the building blocks in front of him.

The housekeeper was trying to avoid the little guy and prevent him from stepping on his blocks.

As a result, he didn't notice what was behind him and accidentally bumped into Kaylan, who was stretching.

The housekeeper's first reaction was to splash the tea on herself to avoid getting the child wet.

But when the little guy saw the mess on the butler's clothes and the broken teacups and plates all over the floor, his eyes widened suddenly, as if he had heard some terrible horn.

Winston only noticed that the child at his feet suddenly ran away.

He immediately got up to check and found that the little guy had huddled in the farthest corner of the wall, covering his head and trembling.

When Winston tried to approach the little guy, he had only just reached out his hand when the little guy felt those terrifying figures, faded from his memory, envelop him.

Winston watched helplessly as his child, his three-year-old darling, knelt down numbly, eyes tightly closed, obediently raising his face as if awaiting a terrible punishment.

Winston withdrew his hand, clenched it, and his nails dug deeply into his palm.

The little guy remained obediently still, as if he would be hit by a storm of punishment if he dodged even slightly.

The scolding from his family members had ingrained this set of actions into his very being.

This tiny cub can't distinguish between good and bad. It can only endure the pain and fear, obeying the "rules" and the rules of silence.

He wanted to be more obedient and make his mother happy in order to lessen his punishment.