Mi Yao was furious, biting her glutinous rice teeth, she cursed at him, "Bastard, what else can you do besides lecturing me? You're simply a tyrant."
Feng Yueming released her little face and, with his powerful physique, pressed her deep into the mattress. He hooked up the corner of his lips with a wicked smile, "Mi Yao, besides lecturing you, I can also pamper you. You like it when I pamper you, admit it bravely, I won't mock you."
Mi Yao, ...
...
The next morning.
Mi Yao washed up and then went downstairs into the dining room, where Feng Yueming was already having breakfast.
She sipped some milk and then sneakily glanced at the man opposite her. There wasn't a trace of last night's debauchery on him. His black uniform with gold embroidery showcased his tall and upright figure, the epitome of an ascetic male god.
Mi Yao couldn't help but mentally snort, what an actor.
"Have you had your fill of looking?" Just then, Feng Yueming lifted his eyelids indifferently toward her.