After finishing breakfast, it was already five o'clock, and Chi Zaozao said she didn't want to go to the hospital anymore; she wanted to go home.
So Ye Que took her to the hospital's parking lot and drove her home.
Throughout the ride, Chi Zaozao, talking nonstop, didn't hold back her words.
"Hubby, why are my nails so short? Did you secretly cut them while I was asleep?"
"Hubby, where did the flower on my forehead go?"
"Hey, I've got a pimple here!"
"Hubby, give me a piece of paper."
Ye Que was driving, and though the tissues were right in front of her, he still had to reach over and pull one out for her.
Chi Zaozao, facing the rearview mirror, squeezed her pimple—a tiny one that hurt so much she grimaced in pain.
Blood oozed out, and as she dabbed at it, she muttered, "I haven't even eaten any peppers, so why did I get a pimple?"
"It's probably from staying up late."
