Mo Shiqian stood at the door, "How much is wet?"
"Everything is wet, can't wear them anymore."
He didn't expose her childish act of womanly revenge, but instead he slipped on his shoes, his tone unchanged, "Fine, you take a shower, I'll go prepare breakfast."
She didn't speak, and the sound of the showerhead echoed from the bathroom.
Mo Shiqian turned and walked to the living room, picked up the phone that had fallen onto the sofa the night before, dialed a number, and after it was answered, spoke in a flat voice, "Bring me a set of clothes, to the address at Mansion No. 10, 709."
"...Isn't that where Chi Huan lives?"
"Steamed buns, red bean porridge, fried dumplings, char siu, beef noodles, sushi, toast, pizza, sunny-side-up eggs, sandwiches, milk, soy milk—have them all delivered within half an hour."
Feng Xing, "…You disappeared suddenly last night, did you go sleep with Chi Huan?"
The phone was hung up, leaving only the dial tone.
