Could coming to reason give the same sense of satisfaction?
"You— What exactly do you want to do?" Ding Jiaqi gulped down her saliva and asked tentatively.
"Ding Jiaqi, I don't like to beat around the bush, and I don't like to reason with others." Mo Fei drew a small mark on her neck. "I warned you, but you didn't take it seriously."
Ding Jiaqi's neck was in pain. A layer of her skin had been cut, but there was no blood. It was similar to how when we received a papercut—it was very painful, but the wound was undetectable.
"Cousin Fei, I really didn't do it on purpose today. I was just too worried about Second Uncle. I—"
Before Ding Jiaqi could finish her sentence, Mo Fei had already broken through the skin on Ding Jiaqi's neck. "I hate it when people lie."
"Feifei—" Qian Yikun's voice came from downstairs.
Mo Fei suddenly put away the dagger in her hand and pushed Ding Jiaqi aside, pretending as if nothing had happened.
