An Kefang quickly supported Xiao Ming, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, it hasn't reached the point of tearing the wound."
Xiao Ming brought her back to the sofa and then stuffed the entire box of tissues into her arms.
"I've realized that you only ever do three things all day long: cry, ask why, and act impulsively.
Miss, borrowing your grandfather's words just now: how did you manage to live this long?
Does someone tend to you twenty-four hours a day?"
An Kefang lowered her head, feeling wronged: "All my life, you... you're the most patient with me."
"Then I really am a cursed kind."
Xiao Ming rolled his eyes and leaned back on the sofa, staring at An Xianhe, who looked quite unwell, and said, "Now, you should finally be able to see the situation more clearly, right?
The one calling the shots here isn't your grandfather; your 'Miss' status is utterly useless except for serving as a hostage, understand?"
