Poor Little God

Ning Meng continued with her insults. "When you smile, even the wolves want to hang themselves. When you speak, even the chickens and dogs would flee. When you stand, you fill the whole room with your stench. When you sweat, the lice would suffer. When you dress up, you look worse than a ghost."

"…"

Lu Jiahao could not stand it anymore. He stood up and charged toward Ning Meng, aiming to land a blow on her.

"You stupid motherf*cker!"

Ning Meng was prepared to fight back, but God shielded her from the front. The young man of tall stature dragged Lu Jiahao by the collar.

"That's enough!"

He usually spoke in a soft voice, and this was the first time Ning Meng had seen him burst into anger this way. God's bloodshot eyes were glaring at Lu Jiahao.

"You can insult me, but you may not insult my big sister! Apologize to her now!"