Because the wound hadn't healed yet, Xia Xiaoxiao could only wash her body with a wet towel in recent days. Lying on Xu Qingfan's back, she asked with some lack of confidence:
"Do I smell?"
Xu Qingfan sniffed hard and still detected the familiar jasmine fragrance of the past. Wanting to tease Xia Xiaoxiao a bit, he said, "Terrible. Only I would be willing to carry you!"
"Xu Qingfan!!!" Xia Xiaoxiao fiercely bit down on his shoulder.
"Are you a dog or something?" Xu Qingfan reached back and gave her buttocks a hard smack.
"Hmph!"
If Xu Qingfan had said "stinky" or "reeks to high heaven," the little girl wouldn't have gotten angry, but "terrible" was really too much to bear, just like if a girl asks you how her figure is and you answer in Cantonese with "Your backside stinks, better scrub the washboard."
The power of dialect to wound is unparalleled.
Xia Xiaoxiao pouted in aggrievement and turned her head to the side.
