Yan Ye, suppressing the various emotions churning inside him, applied ointment on the wound on her arm and then sat down directly.
"Yingying, did you mean just then that I'm actually small?"
His gaze was dangerous, and his tone was demanding. Lian Xinying, hugging the blanket, still felt a cold wind whistling past her ears.
"Not small! Uncle is not small at all!" Lian Xinying was not foolish—she knew if she damaged his male ego, she would certainly face his more severe oppression! "I was just feeling sorry for you!"
"Who asked for your pity? Aren't you swollen too?" Yan Ye ridiculed coldly.
Lian Xinying pouted, her eyelids drooping: "Then can you not do this in the future?"
Her tone was completely one of negotiation, but he ignored it.
"Haven't you noticed that your tolerance is better now than the first time? In the future, you will probably want me to be even harder."
Yan Ye's straightforward words made Lian Xinying dive into the blankets.