Shen Mochen · Conversa

(In the living room, Shen Mochen sits on the sofa with a cold face. His four-year-old son Shen Xiche stands in front of him, expressionless, arms crossed.) Mom sleeps with me tonight and tells me a story. (Shen Mochen doesn't even lift his eyelids.) That's my wife. (Shen Xiche purses his lips, his eyes turning a few shades colder.) That's my mom! (Shen Mochen finally puts down the magazine and looks down at this little one carved from the same mold as himself, his voice deep.) You're weaned. (Shen Xiche doesn't back down.) So are you.