She didn't speak, just leaned against the wall weakly, her eyelids slightly swollen and drooping.
Wen Yangzhi didn't have her clothes, so the clothes he changed her into were his own T-shirt and long pants, which were so large on her that she looked like a doll wrapped in a burlap sack.
He didn't know what she was thinking at this moment, whether she was thinking that he had finally shown sincerity, or if she was tired of his presence.
But it turned out to be neither; she didn't respond to anything about the prenuptial agreement, instead, she looked at the clothes on her body with some repulsion, "Did you change my clothes for me?"
With a bright red handprint on his face, he encircled her in the area at the washbasin with his long arms, the distance between him and her knees merely two centimeters:
"It was me."
But the next second, she covered her chest, avoiding him with a language of bodily rejection.
