'Damn, child prostitution…'
That was Meng Fuyao's final thought before dropping to the area under the table.
Everything was spinning.
The dark red curtains were spinning, the ivory couches were spinning, the sparkly beaded curtains were spinning…
Even Yuan Zhaoxu's unreasonably beautiful face was spinning.
Meng Fuyao closed her eyes midway, attempting as hard as she could to grasp that spinning beauty amid a messy pile of items. Yet, her body was as soft as cotton, and she was unable to catch it. She muttered between sighs, "Darn… not again…"
Sleeves ruffled the next moment, followed by a whiff of faint fragrance as if someone had sat down beside her. "Not again..?" a low, gentle voice sounded.
