The breath emanating from Yan Jingting, who was at my side, grew increasingly oppressive. Chu Zhiyi's lips twitched as she started to defend Yan Jingting. "Even if those women are throwing seductive glances, it doesn't matter. After all, they're throwing them at Yan Jingting, which is like winking at a blind man."
"I like both pigeon soup and old duck soup. I already had pigeon soup last night, and today I wanted to change it up."
Feeling protected by Chu Zhiyi, Yan Jingting's expression lightened a bit. He relaxed, threw the chopsticks broken into four pieces into the garbage bin, and then began to refill Chu Zhiyi's bowl with more soup.