Hearing Cui Yu's assurance, Mianmian was put at ease until her head was suddenly tousled again.
The hand was so rough that it hurt Mianmian's unguarded head.
"Ouch." Mianmian turned to look at Zhong Kui, who had his hands behind his back and was gazing into the distance at the Wangchuan River, pretending as if he had done nothing.
"Hmph." Mianmian's little nose twitched upward, "Uncle Zhong Kui, don't pretend, you're the only one standing behind Mianmian. It must have been you who touched Mianmian's bald head!"
Zhong Kui: "No evidence, child, don't talk nonsense."
Seeing Zhong Kui refusing to own up, Mianmian lifted her little hand to touch her head again.
Zhong Kui had trained in martial arts for years, his hands were rough and calloused, and the touch just now had been a bit too heavy; it really hurt.
She said angrily, "It was definitely you, you bullied Mianmian."