"Look at you, thinking I'd actually plant my seed in you?" Wang Xiaoshuai sneered with disdain.
Zhao Jingjing, her pretty face filled with indignant shock, said, "I thought I was just numb, but it turns out you really didn't plant any seeds! How long does it take you to do it, anyway?"
"No girl can withstand you; no wonder you're not afraid of how many women come!"
Suddenly, as if she remembered something, Zhao Jingjing asked doubtfully, "By the way, did you do something to Aunt Hongxia? I can feel it; she's especially nice to you."
How could Wang Xiaoshuai possibly admit to that?
He'd rather die than admit it. Actually, even death wouldn't make him confess.
Although he would do it almost every day, and this older woman, given the slightest chance, would let him do it, and she got into the mood quickly. Her home, the kitchen, the firewood room—any corner where no one was present.