Zhan Se finished speaking and looked gratefully at Iron Hand who was holding the umbrella for her. "Thank you, Brother Shou."
"No need." Iron Hand kept a straight face, his expression unchanging.
Embarrassed, Zhan Se adjusted the wet towel on her body and, as she approached, saw Quan Thirteen's sweaty little face. He playfully stuck out his tongue, looking as if he had just been taking part in some sport. Thinking of his tender age, Zhan Se couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache, and she affectionately patted his head.
"Thirteen, it's late, why aren't you asleep yet?"
"Father said he was going to pick you up, and I couldn't fall asleep, I've been waiting for you."
No matter how sensible Quan Thirteen acted or how mature he seemed for his age, a child was still a child. As Zhan Se entered the room, he excitedly circled around her like a joyful little dog, clearly over the moon with happiness.
Seeing Little Thirteen, the remnants of Zhan Se's anger dissipated.
