Mu Qian sat down beside the bed, lifted Rongrong's clothes, and placed his hand on her swollen belly, gently caressing it back and forth. The baby seemed to sense his touch from inside, one moment a tiny foot would protrude, and the next, a small hand would push up.
Whenever a small hand or foot emerged, he would gently rub it with his palm.
The little one inside kicked several times, then gradually calmed down.
Mu Qian's hand still rested there, and occasionally the little one would respond to him. This silent communication between father and child softened his hard heart. Such an amazing feeling could warm his cold heart, and his hand lingered with affection.
The pain slowly eased, and Rongrong, who had been tormented enough, relaxed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
Mu Qian covered her belly with a thin blanket and asked Lan Ling, "Is there any way to alleviate her pain?"
