He Doesn’t Want to Be a Son of a Turtle Anymore
“Ugly as hell,” Coco remarked without even sparing a glance, his words dripping with disdain.
This little drama queen was truly vexing! Pretty? More like a monster from a nightmare!
...“Ding Ding, you’re doing it on purpose,” Lan Lan seethed with anger, stomping her foot. “Do you even know where my dress comes from? Mommy said it’s what Saudi princesses wear. How dare you say my dress isn’t gorgeous? I’m going to tell Mommy.”
“Ah-choo!” Coco suddenly sniffed and let out a loud sneeze.
The spray of saliva landed all over Lan Lan.
Lan Lan wiped her face with her hand, her lips pouting, and then burst into tears.
Oh, women were such troublesome creatures.
Coco felt a sense of frustration mounting within him.
“Lan Lan, what’s going on?” Just then, a luxury car pulled up. The door swung open, and Shen Mei emerged, her Chanel handbag in hand, swaying her hips as she stepped out.
“Mummy!” At the sight of Shen Mei, Lan Lan rushed toward her as if she had spotted a savior, burying her face in her mother’s embrace and sobbing uncontrollably.
“My little darling, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?” Shen Mei lifted Lan Lan into her arms, her voice filled with concern.
“Mummy.” Lan Lan sobbed softly, pointing a trembling finger at Coco and trying to explain through her tears, “Mummy… Ding Ding…bullied me.”
Coco wore a look of complete disdain.
He hadn’t bullied her at all; it was all her own doing.
Who did he offend by simply playing with Ultraman? Who decreed that he must entertain her and praise her dress?
Truly, ugly girl always causes trouble!
Coco’s gaze turned cold as he glanced at Shen Mei.
In that instant, an unsettling feeling washed over him.
This woman—her face heavily adorned with makeup, eyes smudged like a panda—exuded an icy and fierce aura, reminiscent of a malevolent witch.
A world of difference compared to his own mommy, as if one resided in heaven while the other dwelled in hell.
At that moment, Shen Mei followed Lan Lan’s finger and caught sight of Coco’s face. In the depths of her mind, Shen Ning’s image briefly flickered, sending a chill down her spine.
Just recently, she had suffered humiliation at the hands of Shen Ning in the office, and now she found out that her son was bullying Shen Ning’s daughter in their own home!
This was simply inconceivable!
“Ding Ding, why did you bully Lan Lan? She’s your sister, don’t you know you should treat her kindly?” Shen Mei strode purposefully toward Coco, towering over him by several heads, her tone filled with authority.
Coco instinctively took a step back, a trace of fear creeping into his heart.
But he quickly straightened his posture.
This woman had hurt his mommy, and he wouldn’t let her get away with it!
“I didn’t bully her. Lan Lan lacks any sense of shame and insisted on playing with me,” Coco retorted loudly, fixing a glare of anger upon Shen Mei.
Shen Mei erupted in fury. How dare this little brat speak to her like that!
“You little brat! Stand here and face the sun as punishment. You won’t be allowed to eat until I say so,” she declared without hesitation, promptly seizing Coco’s ear and dragging him out into the sunlight.
Coco winced as he felt a sharp pain in his ear.
“You wretched old witch, let go of me!” Coco, never the one to back down, became further incensed upon recalling the harm Shen Mei had caused his mother. He swiftly launched a flurry of punches and strikes, landing several direct hits. Finally, he delivered a kick to Shen Mei’s knee, causing her to stumble and fall face-first onto the ground, as if she were a dog who had taken a tumble.
Realizing the trouble he had stirred up, Coco snorted, “See you, La La,” and turned to make his escape.
He no longer wanted to play the role of a grieved son; let anyone who wanted it have it!
At the Zhengsheng Apartment…
“Xiaoxiao, why is everything boiled?” Coco surveyed the dishes spread across the table—boiled potatoes, boiled sweet potatoes, boiled eggs, boiled cabbage—and even plain, colorless boiled noodles. His expression revealed a deep sense of distaste.
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