Liu Mang just wouldn't let go, a sly smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
Lu Mengyao was at her wit's end. In front of Wu Meifang, she couldn't possibly fight with Liu Mang. At the moment, she had no choice but to continue the act of affection.
In Lu Mengyao's eyes, Liu Mang was nothing but a huge nuisance. Getting mixed up with him was like inviting endless bad luck upon herself.
Out of the blue, Lu Mengyao felt Liu Mang's fingers on her foot. It was just a slight touch, but it tickled her unbearably.
While secretly thrilled, Liu Mang pretended to be concerned, "What's wrong with you? You look a bit off. Are you feeling unwell somewhere?"
Lu Mengyao could hardly resist stabbing the chopsticks in her hand into Liu Mang's eyes. It was all his fault, and yet he had the audacity to show concern—despicable, shameless, vile!
Wu Meifang felt Lu Mengyao's forehead, "Yaoyao, you're a bit hot. You're not coming down with a fever, are you?"
