Li Yuxuan's assessment of Weisheng Yueren was that he was done for, thoroughly corrupted. The previously haughty deity who would only drink water and barely touch his food at a restaurant because he didn't like to share dishes with chopsticks that others had used, might now even swallow what Qinghe spat out. Although the thought was somewhat disgusting, it seemed to be the case—every strand of Qinghe's hair was precious to him.
"Cough cough," Qinghe suddenly turned around, looking toward the source of the sound. Alright, she was even distracted under these circumstances—she was quite impressed with herself.
Liliya's flirtatiously charming face broke into a slight smile, as if her captivating eyes were staring straight at you—her allure was fully blooming, entrancing the soul, rippling, rippling, rippling.
"You dead woman, someone's talking to you—why aren't you answering?" Bill saw Qinghe was clearly distracted and deliberately raised his voice to remind her.
