Over there, Lin Jiaojiao, flushed with embarrassment and anger, used both fists and feet, wishing she could scratch this thick-skinned scoundrel's face with her claws—if only her manicure hadn't been done so recently.
She would love for him to lose face as well.
"Have some shame, will you?" Lin Jiaojiao panted heavily.
She truly couldn't recall ever desiring a man unlike Lu Han—who was sophisticated, mature, and charming—who could completely subdue her, a woman who was said to put the flowers to shame and rival the beauty of celestial beings.
She did fancy someone in the style of Lu Han, but definitely not Lu Han himself, after all, other women might accept a younger lover, but Lin Jiaojiao absolutely could not.
Not even a minute younger.
Women naturally age faster than men, so if she found someone younger, wouldn't there come a day when people would see them together and ask the man if he was being filial by shopping with his mom?
That would be the end of it.
