"I didn't," Tong Ran struggled to suppress her laughter, shaking her head, "Why are you competing with a cat? It's little Nannan, and you're big Nannan, isn't that okay?"
"Tong Ran, you're ruthless," Mo Nanjue could only glare at her with malicious eyes, as it wasn't appropriate to flare up here, "We'll settle this when we get back."
Tong Ran wasn't afraid of his so-called settling of accounts; after all, if she took the initiative at night, then the control would be in her hands.
She went to the washroom to get a towel, wrung it out with warm water, and then sat on the edge of the bed, gently wiping the dirt off Han Qingqing's face. Perhaps because of the plastic surgery, her skin was very dry; Tong Ran's delicate fingers felt like they were touching a layer of fake skin.
