"...New Year's gift?" Ning Yan frowned momentarily, clearly unfamiliar with the term.
His father had a family abroad and rarely returned home, and his mother seemed like a mentally ill patient; New Year and Spring Festival were all foreign and inconsequential to him, let alone New Year's gifts.
Honestly, he hadn't anticipated needing to prepare a New Year's gift.
Feng Yi nodded and said, "I know Uncle Ning doesn't care about anything now and certainly hasn't prepared a New Year's gift for me. So, Yiyi is just reminding you. After all, there are still two days until the New Year; you can think about it."
Ning Yan remained silent.
Wasn't the implication of Feng Yi's words just that—you have to give me a New Year's gift, there's no escaping it?
Is it still time to return to the research institute?
Feng Yi was long accustomed to his silence and pulled his hand as they raced upstairs: "To your room."
