An Zimo raised his eyes, not quite understanding what An was thinking.

Her eyes were filled with water, and her tone was slow: "You must grow up to be a gentle man, be responsible, and be kind, but you cannot be completely kind. If you are too kind...others will bully you."

An Zimo frowned, hummed, and answered with difficulty: "Okay, I can give it a try."

An Xiang smiled again, lowered his eyelids and fell asleep quietly.

The nanny had already arrived home. An Zimo put down his book and asked his aunt to teach him how to cook.

The aunt initially disagreed, because after all, it was too dangerous for children to get angry. He repeatedly said it was for mother's sake, and the aunt reluctantly nodded in agreement.

An Zimo stepped on a stool in front of the stove and cooked porridge according to the steps provided by the nanny.

He is smart and can learn everything quickly, even cooking. Except for the fact that his height affects his cooking speed, he has almost no choice.

A pot of nutritious porridge came out quickly, and the nanny couldn't wait to take a bite.

The porridge was cooked just right, the rice grains were soft and glutinous, and the taste was sweet. She smacked her tongue secretly and couldn't help but give An Zimo a thumbs up: "Very good, very good. The young master will have a bright future in the future."

An Zimo, who was praised, raised his lips and said without humility: "Don't tell the established facts."

The nanny scooped out a bowl, put it on a dinner plate and handed it to him: "Then you can deliver it to mom in person." After all, he made it himself, so it would be more appropriate to deliver it in person.

An Zimo nodded, carefully held the plate steady, and turned around and said, "Then help me call Pei... my dad and see if I can get through."

He was not willing to let Pei Yizhou come back. He Anxiang was a little seriously ill and needed an adult to take care of him.

The nanny nodded and turned to make a phone call.

An Zimo then slowly moved towards the bedroom.

"Hey, I made porridge for you..."

His voice gradually lowered, and his eyes gradually widened as he looked at the bedroom.

Snapped--

An Zimo's wrists were unstable, the dinner plate fell off his hands, the bowl fell to the ground, and the hot porridge just out of the pot poured all over his feet, and any place where it was splashed instantly turned red.

He doesn't feel any pain.

The wound was far less shocking than the scene in front of me.

An wanted to lie down beside the bed, and the blood stains stained the sheets into large areas of red.

She closed her eyes, was unconscious, did not open her eyes, and had no reaction.

Is she dead?

When this idea came to his mind, An Zimo felt as if a hole had opened in the world.

He couldn't bear it. All the education he had received was of no use at this moment, and his usually calm mind went blank in an instant.
Chapter completed!