Nangong Zhan picked up his son at the door of his house. As soon as he stopped the car, the boys jumped out of the car with their schoolbags on their backs and left with their backs to the man in the car. They didn't have any affection for him at all.
Seeing this, Nangong Zhan's eyes flashed with sadness again, he opened the car door and got out of the car, following behind his son.
As soon as Xiao Tianshuo entered the house, several servants came up to say hello to him and bring him his schoolbag, but he ignored them and walked upstairs carrying his schoolbag.
"Master!" When several servants saw Nangong Zhan coming in, they all stood aside and saluted respectfully.
Nangong Zhan looked at the back of his son going upstairs and asked the servant beside him, "Have you found the teacher you were asked to find who can teach the young master?"
Several servants looked at each other, then lowered their heads.
Seeing this, Nangong Zhan obviously knew the answer. He threw away the car keys angrily and followed the direction in which his son disappeared.
When he came to the room, he didn't see his son. When he went to the study, he still didn't see his son. Finally, Nangong Zhan saw his son in his small studio.
Seeing him putting his schoolbag aside and drawing with a drawing board, he quietly walked over and stood quietly behind him.
What my son drew was a woman, a woman he drew based on his own feelings. She looked, not to mention, somewhat similar to the woman she once was.
Nangong Zhan squatted down and looked through the pile of drawings beside him intentionally or unintentionally. They were all drawn by his son. Except for some martial arts comics he loved, the others were all from his family of three. However, many manuscripts
, the woman in the painting has no face.
Seeing this, Nangong Zhan's heart felt as if a sharp weapon had been struck heavily. The feeling was so uncomfortable that it made him suffocate.
He has always known that since his son was sensible, what he longed for most was to have a mother, and every time he mentioned it in front of him, he would always dismiss him with cold words, but he did not expect how much this would hurt his heart.
.
Look at the picture he painted now. It originally looked very good, but for some reason, he suddenly became angry and crushed it into pieces and tore it up.
Then he painted again, painted and tore, tore and painted again, and did this several times in a row. Nangong Zhan couldn't stand it any longer, so he stretched out his hand to stop him.
"If I can't draw, I won't draw, huh?"
Xiao Tianshuo looked at his father in confusion, "It's not that I can't draw, it's that I don't even know what my mother looks like!"
As soon as he finished speaking, two lines of clear tears fell down his pink and tender face.
"Daddy, why are you always unwilling to tell me about my mother? I really want my mother. I really want to be like other children and have my mother pick me up after school every day."
After hearing this and seeing the tears falling uncontrollably from his son's eyes, the man couldn't bear it. He stretched out his long arms to hug his son tightly and held him in his arms.
"Didn't Dad tell you? Your mother is dead! Why don't you always listen? If you really want one, Dad will find one for you."
Feeling his father's cold voice, Xiao Tianshuo pushed him away with tears in his eyes, "Damn it, why don't you even have a photo of her?"
After saying that, he stood up suddenly and glared at Nangong Zhan, "I don't care what you found, I will find it myself, hum!"
"Tianshuo... Tianshuo..."
No matter what Nangong Zhan called, the boy just didn't respond and turned around and ran out of the studio.
