Lin Qinghui touched her belly and was very happy! It was as if he could already see the scene of her grandson being born and being held in her arms.
"She's already this old at seven months. " Lin Qinghui calculated the time. It was the beginning of summer now, which was exactly seven months.
Lin Qinghui drank the soup and chatted with her for a while. Shen chengjing felt that it was difficult to breathe, so she did not chat with her anymore. Instead, she went back to the mo garden alone.
"Cheng, what's wrong?" When mo Yanchen returned, he saw her lying on the sofa with a dark expression.
"Uncle! I can't breathe. " Shen chengjing reached out and grabbed mo Yancheng's wrist. Her face was frighteningly pale.
When she went out, she had already found it hard to breathe, but now this feeling was getting stronger and stronger. She didn't even have the breath to go to the second floor.