Qiao Yue felt like a herd of alpacas was running in her head. To think Qiao Jing was still brooding over her score of 60.
"Brother," Qiao Yue called out in dissatisfaction, and the strength of her hand increased.
Qiao Jing raised his head and stretched out his hand to stop her frenzied actions, "It's no use even if you call me like that. Go back to class."
Qiao Yue's wrist was caught and she looked down at Qiao Jing. She could see her figure in his eyes.
Her gaze moved from Qiao Jing's eyes to the bridge of his nose, and then down to his thin and slightly red lips.
She still remembered the accidental touch that day. His soft and warm lips had become moist because of the wine, and his hot breath had landed on her face, the emotions in the air unusually ambiguous.
Suddenly, Qiao Jing's hand moved to Qiao Yue's neck and rubbed the bandage on her neck.
