On the other end of the phone, the man's voice was low and heavy, spreading a thin layer of shallow humor, indistinct, "What's making you nervous, afraid I'd run away?"
Over the phone, a pleasant voice always sounded even more appealing. Yao Qing didn't know the reason behind this, but his deep voice, tinged with a hint of laughter, instantly made her ears grow warm.
But then she remembered the eight stitches on his arm that gave her the creeps—
"If you want to become a one-armed hero, I surely won't care. Didn't Secretary Su watch over you? You got discharged and didn't call me? You..."
Yao Qing hadn't finished speaking when the person on the other end of the line cut her off.
The tone was still careless.
"Four more hours, and I'll be twenty-five."
"..."
"Yao Qing, tomorrow is my birthday."
Yao Qing instinctively moved the phone away from her ear and opened the calendar to look.
It really was his birthday.
