Feng Yueming hugged her and gently kissed her tender little face.
Mi Yao couldn't bear such intimacy, she pushed him with force, "Someone's here."
"There's no one left, they already left."
Zhou Jin was a cunning old fox; he didn't need to be told to leave, and besides, he had no interest in live broadcasting the scene.
Her beauty was meant for him alone to see.
Still, Mi Yao refused, she weakly pleaded, "Commander Feng, can we go home, please? I don't want to be here."
"What's wrong with here? I like it," Feng Yueming said as he firmly gripped her soft waist.
Suddenly, he felt warmth on his leg, as if some warm liquid had flowed onto his trousers.
He looked down and his entire face darkened, his trousers were stained with blood.
"Is it your period?" he asked, his face displeased.
