Pei Dongshi reined in his smile, "What's wrong?"
Nan Jiaojiao buried her head even lower like a coward, "I heard her crying, she must have been hurt."
Pei Dongshi: "..."
What sins had he committed?
He dared not respond, lest he be mocked again as a senile old man with no worldly experience.
After breakfast, Pei Dongshi needed to go to work; his assistant was waiting outside. The assistant had come to deliver some documents so he could work from here, and coincidentally, he was also there to take him away.
Nan Jiaojiao sounded rather resentful, "So you won't stay with me anymore? My heart is quite delicate."
"You call that delicate?"
She could run, jump, eat, and also anger him—no flea was as lively as she was.
Nan Jiaojiao shrank her neck, "Pretending is still necessary."
"Go on pretending, I'll make money to support you, my ungrateful daughter."