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...

as predicted.

   "I heard from Axiang that you are angry with her, sister..."

"Mother!" Han Qiao interrupted Han Yuanshi's words, "Mother, I don't like to hear you say that. I don't usually offend her, right? Just let me give birth to one. In front of her cousins, what kind of heart does she have?"

   "..." Han Yuan was taken aback.

"Mom, they are all your daughters. I don't ask you to be partial to me, but at least a bowl of water is flat. Has Han Xiang called ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

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