He circled right back.
"Really?" Shang Jingchen looked at her strangely, still in doubt.
Little miss immediately scorned him: "Uncle, use your brain and think, is that possible? I'm eight years old, she's only twenty-four. So, she would have had me at thirteen years old, could that be possible?"
"You're eight years old?" Shang Jingchen looked at her skeptically.
"Yes." The little girl lied without batting an eyelid, after all, she would be eight next year, so she wasn't really lying.
"Sharp-tongued little girl, I really don't know which unfortunate parents had the misfortune of having you. I bet they are infuriated every single day."
How could such a sharp-tongued little girl exist in this world? Her parents must be so distressed that they'd die ten years earlier.
