Step by step, she walked resolutely towards Luo Qi, as if oblivious to the fierce duel that had just taken place between the two others. Coming to a halt, standing at attention, she saluted; her red lips parted slightly, "Instructor, I look forward to your guidance."
…
The tips of her fingers turned slightly white, her body hair stood on end, and the clothes in her hands instantly twisted into a wad.
"Miaomiao." Yang Xiaoxin reached out to tug at Ling Miaomiao's sleeve, her eyes shimmering with boundless concern.
"Ah!" Miaomiao startled back to reality, her eyes filled with confusion as she looked at Yang Xiaoxin, "What's wrong, Xiaoxiao?"
"Miaomiao, are you too nervous?" She pulled on the jacket in Ling Miaomiao's hand that belonged to Ling Xi, "Look, you've almost twisted Ling Xi's jacket into a rag." Watching the rag-like jacket in Ling Miaomiao's hands, Yang Xiaoxin suddenly felt an urge to laugh.
