Pot Calling the Kettle Black

Zhai Sheng refused to allow someone else to continue occupying his bed. "My stubbornness about the bed is still better than your stubbornness about toothbrushes. I won't back down on this matter."

…

Now that he compared his bed to toothbrushes, Qiao Nan really had nothing else to say. "Fine. I understand." Indeed, she would never let anyone touch a toothbrush that she had used. Once someone so much as touched it, she would refuse to use it after. "Okay, it's already late. You're tired too. Let's sleep."

Lying within Zhai Sheng's embrace, the sleepy bug that had been chased away once again came back to find Qiao Nan. After yawning, Qiao Nan hugged Zhai Sheng's arm as she rubbed her face against the pillow. She was ready to go to bed.

But who knew that what Zhai Sheng meant by 'sleep' did not mean the same thing that Qiao Nan was thinking about.