Overwhelmed by shyness, Meng Zhu wanted to immediately change the subject and hurriedly continued cooking.
But she was unfamiliar with the stove, and also a bit nervous, when suddenly she stumbled and her body leaned towards Yang Fan again.
Her round and bouncy buttocks landed squarely on Yang Fan's face once more.
Yang Fan couldn't help but laugh, mischievously blowing a hot breath towards that soft golden valley.
Meng Zhu sprang up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"What, what are you doing?" she cried out in embarrassment and annoyance.
Yang Fan's expression turned stern, "What do you mean what am I doing? Didn't you just sit on my face again? I told you your buttocks were eyeing me, but you didn't believe me. Look, look, it keeps wanting to turn my face into a stool."
"I... you just breathed..." Meng Zhu glared at Yang Fan in annoyance, her hand wielding the spatula a bit fiercely.
