Chi Huan was held by the man, though he hardly exerted any strength.
He was clearly a domineering man, unreasonable and without limits, but when he spoke these words, in this position leaning on her waist and abdomen, he was like a giant dog begging for affection.
His deep and steady voice gave the illusion of softening.
For a moment, she didn't even know what to do.
It was as if she was trapped in a valley, unable to move forward or retreat.
She held her breath and said stiffly, "You wipe it yourself, I won't help you, and you dry your own hair too, at most I'll bring you the hairdryer."
Mo Shiqian said, "My back hurts, reaching that far to apply medicine will hurt, and raising my arms to dry my hair will hurt too."
"..."
"I don't believe it, Mo Shiqian, you're a thirty-year-old man always complaining about back pain, this hurts, that hurts, have you no shame?"