This Was Mo Jingshen's Shirt, and This Was...

Hearing these words, she would be a fool if she dared to move any further on his lap.

Seeing that she was obedient, Mo Jingshen's mood lifted as he rubbed her hair. "You've vented your anger. You've also said that you don't want to fight anymore in the future. Does your heart feel better now that the thorn is plucked out?"

Ji Nuan kept silent, sensitive to the bulge pressing against her bottom.

She clearly wasn't moving anymore; why did it seem to be pressing against her more.

"Little one with no conscience. You know that I'm angry at you for not showing any conscience, yet you took advantage of your drunken state to shout at me. Did you think we were comparing volume? Does the louder one make more sense? En?" The man's long fingers ran through her hair and landed on her shoulder. His palm held the back of her neck, causing her to lift her head unwillingly.