Wen Meimei was stunned like a wooden chicken.
Qiao Chengxun's deep eyes revealed a barely perceptible soft glow as he suddenly stretched out his hand, not too gently grasped the girl's tender arm, and dragged her into a nearby fashion store.
Wen Meimei followed behind him passively, muttering under her breath, "Beast! Scoundrel! Stinking hooligan! Dead bastard! Son of a turtle! Wolf in sheep's clothing! Gaining fame by trickery! Vainly famous..."
The man suddenly turned around, his hawk-like gaze quickly locking onto the girl's frightened little round face, "Have you had enough?"
"Due to a limited vocabulary, I really haven't had enough."
"Just curse in your heart, okay? Don't let me hear you, hmm?"
The threatening yet melodious nasal sound was crisp, melting Wen Meimei's heart.
"Got it." The girl said reluctantly, then averted her eyes elsewhere, displaying a cute expression that screamed "I know I was wrong."