"Here," he handed her the small bundle of yarn.
Mi Yao reached out to take it, "Thank you."
She turned and went back to the bed.
The man stretched out his long legs and stood behind her. Dropping his gaze, he glanced at the unfinished product on the bed, then said softly with a laugh, "Are you starting to prepare sweaters for the baby now?"
"Yeah, I'm free anyway."
"What if you've prepared all these clothes for a daughter, and you end up having a son instead?"
A son?
Mi Yao hadn't really considered that she might have a son. She craved spicy food, and as the saying went—"sour for boys, spicy for girls"—she was more likely to have a daughter. Besides, she had a secret preference for daughters; daughters are their mother's intimate little jackets, so she never really thought the tide would turn in her belly.
"It won't be a son, definitely a girl," she said with certainty.
"Mm." The man hummed from behind her, not adding much else.
