Jian Qing was fretting over how to explain herself when he reached out to grab the bag. Seeing that he was about to empty out its contents, she panicked.
"Xiaojing, don't touch it!"
With that, she dashed over.
The more anxious she became, the more intrigued Quan Jingwu grew, as he lifted the bag and emptied its contents onto the bed.
The atmosphere suddenly becoming silent was what Jian Qing feared most. She remained frozen for a second before calmly gathering everything back into the bag.
"Hahaha!" Seeing her rare blush of embarrassment, Quan Jingwu suddenly burst into laughter. His rich, hearty laughter was as enchanting as a well-aged wine.
"What the hell are you laughing at!" Jian Qing hid the bag behind her back, unable to help but curse, "Laugh yourself to death for all I care."
After a moment, he stopped laughing, walked over to her, and looked down, "You really dislike skirts that much? Do you hate them?"
