After many days, Lin Fei returned to his rental apartment and could hardly believe his own eyes. If it weren't for Meng Xue'er, a picture of innocence and charm, following him, Lin Fei would have doubted whether he'd walked into the wrong room.
Lin Fei's memory of the apartment remained frozen on the day he moved out. Three words summed up his place back then: Dirty, messy, bad.
Now, the apartment that lay before Lin Fei's eyes was not immaculate, but it was clean and tidy. He couldn't spot a speck of dirt anywhere he looked.
"Xue'er, you really are quite capable."
Only Lin Fei himself knew how filthy his place had been before. Yet Meng Xue'er, fragile and delicate as she seemed, had undertaken such a vast cleaning project, which made even Lin Fei involuntarily express his amazement.
"Ah—Lin, Brother Lin, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to, it's just, it's just..."
