Su Lu, of course, didn't know any of this. She just brought the child home as usual, gave him a thorough bath, rubbed him with fragrant lotion, and then cuddled up with her son in bed to tell him a story.
To her surprise, Zhao Xiaole didn't want to hear a bedtime story.
He clutched his "Dou Dou" blanket, gazing at Su Lu with sparkling, eager eyes.
Seeing the intense look in her child's eyes, Su Lu's heart skipped a beat and she suddenly had an ominous feeling.
"What's wrong? Don't want to hear me read a story? Could it be you want to hear me tell a story?" Su Lu anxiously asked.
Zhao Xiaole had once asked her to tell a story, not to read from a book, but to make one up on the spot.
Su Lu considered herself a straightforward person with a clumsy tongue; she could read from the book, but coming up with something on the fly would pose quite a challenge.
