Zheng Heng grabbed Song Zhaozhao's chin firmly, laughed when he saw the pain surface on her face, and said, "So you can feel pain? I thought you were made of iron."
Unfazed, Song Zhaozhao smirked and provoked him, "Zheng Heng, don't you think your words are becoming more and more like a complaining woman?"
Zheng Heng's face finally changed a bit. He let go of Song Zhaozhao's chin, his thin lips curling with indifference, "How can you act like nothing's wrong?"
"Which incident do you mean?" Song Zhaozhao got up from his embrace and sat on the farthest sofa, "I'm a carefree person, treating everything as if it's nothing, so I don't know what you're referring to."
"Regarding Li Wei." Zheng Heng spoke coldly.
Song Zhaozhao 'Oh'ed, and laughed, "What? Are you feeling pity for her? Do you want to take care of her?"
Zheng Heng's face was turning somewhat blue.
