The Sweetness of the Seventies - Chapter 61 - Precautionary Measure_1

Officer, if I told you this just was a “Healing-type Game,” would you believe me?

[sweet, pampering][strong FL, 1v1]He was an absolute noble, decisive and cold-hearted, yet he was persistently entwined with her, doting incessantly.The first time they met, he questioned, “Six years ago, was it you?”The second time they met, he was holding a paternity test, “You still dare to say your son isn't mine?”The nth time they met, she finally lost her patience, “Sir, will you ever give it a rest?”The man lifted the corners of his mouth, smiling with a deep and enchanting charm, “Not before our second child is born.”

When Qiao Moyu awakened, she found herself in a novel world and had become the villainess who was loathed by the President, the story’s male protagonist.

Qiao Moyu, the President’s childhood friend, came to his door whilst holding a baby, but the man said he won’t take any responsibility since the child wasn’t his!

As she stared at her adorable and proud little toddler, Qiao Moyu decided to take this chance to raise her son while having a fresh start in her acting career. As for the other problems, she’ll just take it easy!

However, a few months later ~

President: “You’re not some disgusting mosquito blood, you’re my white moonlight (first love).”

Luo Luo: “Mama, he’s not Baobei’s father. Baobei doesn’t want him.”

A certain Film Emperor: “I want both you and the child.”

Online fans: “Qiao Moyu is ours!”

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.