The Problem with Marrying Rich: Out of the Way, Ex Chapter 67 - If Only It Were His Child

Chapter 67: If Only It Were His Child

Translator: Larbre Studio Editor: Larbre Studio

Though he didn’t cook much, he did know how to cook. Xiyan watched him juggling between cutting raw materials and flipping pans, and before she knew it, she was slling the tantalizing fragrance of sauteed beef, stead carp, fried vegetable, and at soup with chestnut.

Four dishes in less than forty minutes.

Xiyan just watched him. This was the first ti she saw him getting his dirty in a kitchen, and this man seed to be capable of more things than she thought.

One more thing, he was topless, exhibiting a muscular physique and, of course, his well-defined six pack. He had a very lean body, one of those a professional bodybuilder would have.

“Dinner ti. Are you done peeking yet?” Hao brought the dishes out and slightly clicked her forehead.

Till then did her senses kick in. Embarrassed, she grabbed his clothes from the couch.

“Put it on. Don’t want you get a cold.”

Hao took it and tossed it on him partially buttoned up. As serious as he was at work, Hao was quite chill while not, especially when around people he knew well, family, friends.

Xiyan observed his every move, her lips irresistibly arching. He did have a childish side every now and then.

She tried the fish first. It was light but fresh and appropriately cooked, offering a enjoyable taste in the mouth. His cooking was not bad at all, and so much better than his mother.

“Hope you like it.” Hao was satisfied to see the woman’s reaction. There weren’t many people who had the privilege to have him cook for them. He probably wouldn’t get in the kitchen if it weren’t that the woman was pregnant and by herself.

Thinking of her pregnancy, the sparkles in his eyes died down, his heart sour with overwhelming jealousy.

He would think, if only this were his child and he were the one who’s going to be a father soon. Too bad... Damn it, Mo Yixuan.

—

It had been twenty days since Xia returned to the Mo villa, and as a woman who just had a baby four weeks before, she was recovering quite well, partly because she had a spontaneous vaginal labor. By this ti, she had started bustling the maids and her wedding planners to get on decorating the wedding room.

“Hang this oil painting here, and the “double happiness” paper-cut goes to the left of the window. The wall lamp is hideous and does not match the overall style at all. I’m going to get it replaced now.”

She’s like a commander, giving orders around. As for her son, she had her nanny take over. She didn’t even hold the baby for many tis, let alone breastfeeding him. For fear of losing her slender figure, she refused to breastfeed her son even though she could have. Why would she hire a nanny if she needed to feed the baby herself?

Downstairs the baby, red-faced, kept crying and spitting up. Everyone was trying to get the baby quiet down, and the nanny had taken all the bla.

“What is wrong? Did you forget to keep a mild diet? Why is baby spitting up?” Li snapped at the 28-year-old nanny, blaming her for taking all that money for doing nothing.

The nanny, wronged but innocent, had given all she had to this baby, feeding her own child with regular milk.

The baby was nad Mo Ye. Ye ans brightness, a bright future for him.