Qiao Xiaomai raised an eyebrow, lifted her hand to grasp his arm, and moved his large hand from over her mouth. She gave a cold laugh, "Tong Sanlang, if something happens to you, I won't waste a minute looking for another."
"You're right, I still have a long life to live—it doesn't make sense to be a widow because of you."
"No, not even a widow, after all, we're not married."
Tong Sanlang looked at her, with a continued smile on his handsome face, "I will do everything in my power to avoid leaving you a widow."
"Well, go ahead and choose where I can transfer the items from my space." Qiao Xiaomai's brow was tightly furrowed; she wanted to bite him again.
"Choose, but there are some things we need to clear up first."
Both of them intuitively avoided mentioning certain things when they weren't facing a crisis, so as to avoid dampening their spirits. But now it was unavoidable. He had to say it.
