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Who knew that as soon as he said this, Wen Rendong exploded: “What do you mean no son? Whoever dares to say my family has no son, I won’t let them off!”

Wen Yanqing didn’t want to argue with a drunk person and was worried he would say even more outrageous things, so he stepped forward to forcibly support him and prepared to take him back.

“Just rest here, we have spare rooms in the house, and servants to take care of you,” Mr. Lin said.

“No need.”

Mr. Lin insisted on keeping them: “We are all family, no need to be so distant. Look, it’s starting to rain outside, don’t trouble yourself. You and Tangtang should also stay, and leave tomorrow.”

Wen Yanqing hadn’t paid attention to the weather. Now looking outside the window, it indeed had started to drizzle.

The Lin family’s villa was spacious. Wen Yanqing helped Wen Rendong into the guest room. The man, muddled from drinking, was talking nonsense—one moment saying “A little foreign liquor could intoxicate people, what a joke,” the next moment, “Yanqing, don’t sway, stand properly.”

Wen Yanqing, expressionless, dumped him on the bed and smoothed the wrinkles on his own shirt.

A servant brought water and a towel. Wen Yanqing didn’t lift a finger to help him wipe and said indifferently, “Please help him clean up.”

The servant agreed and stepped forward to help Wen Rendong take off his shoes.

Wen Yanqing picked up Wen Rendong’s ringing mobile phone, glanced at the caller ID, directly cut off the call and turned it off, then threw the phone back beside the bed.

Lin Gantang was in the living room, being caught by Mr. Lin to accompany him in a game of chess.

Mr. Lin handed her the chess book: “Playing chess is a refined activity. Take your time to look at it, it’s perfect for prenatal education.”

Lin Gantang expressed that even if she understood the game, she didn’t want to play chess. She really had zero interest in it.

She lazily flipped through the pages and soon made the excuse that she was sleepy and wanted to rest. Mr. Lin didn’t suspect anything: after all, some pregnant women are sleepy, and he clearly categorized Lin Gantang as such.

The rain in the sky seemed to have no intention of stopping, pouring down more and more heavily.

Lin Gantang leaned on the headboard playing games, while Wen Yanqing, fresh from the shower, approached her, getting closer and closer.

He kissed the side of her face, and Lin Gantang pushed him a little: “Don’t move, I’ll lose if you do.”

“What will you gain if you win?” Wen Yanqing’s slightly wet hair brushed across her forehead.

Lin Gantang replied without hesitation: “Happiness.”

Wen Yanqing’s long fingers reached behind her phone and held it, taking it away: “I can give you happiness too.”

“Ah, team battle! Wen Yanqing, be human!”

Wen Yanqing didn’t care; his kisses pressed down on her overwhelmingly, leaving no room for her to struggle.

Wen Yanqing had been drinking and was a bit excited; if not for the keen memory of not being able to share a room for the first three months, he’d probably be even more unrestrained.

Meanwhile, Mr. Lin, pretending to be casual, wandered up to the third floor. He didn’t even glance at his daughter’s closed bedroom door and went straight to find Wen Rendong.

It was clear that Wen Yanqing had kept himself clean and waited for his own daughter for many years, but how come, out of the blue, Wen Rendong spoke about having a one-year-old son?

Would he have a child with someone else when he’s been so devoted to Gantang and only her?

Mr. Lin believed that Wen Yanqing wouldn’t do anything to betray Gantang, but having heard what was said… It was probably a father’s anxiety. He would not be at ease until he got to the bottom of it.

Wen Rendong seemed to have fallen asleep. Mr. Lin found it a bit difficult, but still tried calling out: “Old Wen.”

The other side didn’t make any move, not wanting to give up, Mr. Lin went ahead and shook him: “Let’s talk about your grandson, shall we?”

Wen Rendong stirred.

Mr. Lin knew he cherished his grandson and deliberately enticed him with the question: “Does Yanqing have a one-year-old son? Have you held him? Is he good to hold? Did you have fun?”

Wen Rendong’s drunkenness hadn’t faded, and he was half-asleep and dazed: “Just… just a few pounds heavy, wouldn’t let me hold him.”