Faint words, showing a hint of relaxation and laziness, the voice not too loud nor too soft, but just right, clearly reached Lan Xiyue's ears.
"What!"
Lan Xiyue incredulously asked, "What did you say? You want me, Miss, to bathe you? Impossible! Even if I die, I will not bathe you!"
Her pretty face turned a shade of crimson, and this expression, appearing on her flawless face, inadvertently exuded a hint of seduction.
Unfortunately, no one witnessed her demeanor; otherwise, they would surely be mesmerized.
"If you don't want to bathe, put down the sword in your hand and leave." From upstairs, Lin Hao's indifferent words came.
"Lin Hao, fine, I'm leaving!"
Lan Xiyue put down the sword in her hand and turned to leave.
She didn't believe that Lin Hao would really let her go.
She, Lan Xiyue, intelligent and clever, beautiful to gaze at—not a femme fatale, but certainly much better than some so-called stars.
