"Which one of us in the family isn't sick?" su Xingyu chuckled.
Tang Ji 'an glanced at him. That's true, who isn't sick?
The two of them stood at the entrance of the seventh-floor staircase. Tang Ji 'an reached out his hand. "Do you have any smoke on you?"
Su Xingyu took out a pack of cigarettes from the inner pocket of his suit and handed one to him. "Why are you frowning?"
Tang Ji 'an lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall. As the smoke swirled around him, he looked very tired. "I feel like a bastard."
"I can't believe someone who's always been so willful would have this kind of awareness?" su Xingyu sneered.
"Speak properly," Tang Ji 'an glanced at him.
Su Xingyu slowly raised his cigarette-holding fingers and pressed them on his temples. "What's wrong? Did the little girl make you unhappy?"
"I made her unhappy." Tang Ji 'an blew out a ring of smoke.
"Ji 'an, you've really changed," su Xingyu said, stunned.
