She had no doubts; her gaze and tone of speech were as calm as still water, devoid of any pretense.
So sensible, so considerate, never fussing nor causing trouble.
Fan Ju had been thoroughly fed up with women's antics of crying, making scenes, and threatening to take their own lives since he was young. Given Nie Rujun's reaction, he should feel satisfied.
But damn it!
He inexplicably found her calmness irritating, like a needle piercing sharply into his eye.
A surge of anger repeatedly battered inside his chest, making his complexion grow darker and more ominous as he glared at her as if he wanted to devour her.
Nie Rujun looked weary: "Fan Ju, last time it was you who said it yourself, we shouldn't argue anymore."
"Your wound hasn't been treated yet; you should call Dr. Zhao to come over and dress it. I'll wash up, get dinner ready – teamwork, okay?"
The man only paid attention to the first half of what she said.
