At night, a gentle breeze blew.
In Huang Jun's bedroom on the top floor of Jinyuan District, a serene atmosphere lingered.
Qingqing and Weiwei, having just finished their baths, exuded a faint scent of body wash. Clad in their favorite little nightgowns, they sat on the soft bed, each immersed in her own little world, playing delightedly.
Qingqing was seen sitting at the corner of the bed.
She held a colorful picture book in her hand, her eyes focused on the illustrations on the page.
Her tiny fingers occasionally pointed at the characters in the book, murmuring softly, as if having an interesting conversation with the book's little friends.
As the story unfolded with its twists and turns, her expression changed accordingly—sometimes revealing a look of surprise, sometimes lost in thought, completely absorbed in the book's world.
Those unaware might mistakenly think she could understand the words in the picture book, savoring its profound meanings.
Actually.
