"Yi An?"
Zhao Feng was startled upon hearing this and couldn't help but glance at the boy who was completely oblivious to the conversation.
Wang Yi'an was busy helping Bu Chan tidy up the table, including the bowls, dishes, and chopsticks.
Although he was only seven or eight years old, he worked quite efficiently and with an air of seriousness.
He didn't at all resemble the child who had been so lively at the dinner table just moments before.
Zhao Feng couldn't help but nod slightly in approval.
Seeing this, Wang Ba quickly said:
"Yi An, come here."
Wang Yi'an walked over with a puzzled look.
"Father, Uncle Zhao."
Zhao Feng nodded, and without any pleasantries, immediately reached out and placed his hand on Wang Yi'an's head.
Seeing this, Bu Chan hastily stopped what she was doing and looked towards Wang Yi'an and Zhao Feng.
Wang Yi'an, however, was full of confusion.
Soon, Zhao Feng withdrew his hand, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes, and spoke softly to Wang Yi'an: