"Nia Mitchell!"
Maxwell Peary wished he could crack open Nia Mitchell's head and see what on earth she was thinking to make her say such things.
Damn it, she should have just said it straight.
She was being so roundabout; he'd actually thought she was angry.
It seems that no matter how harmless someone appears, you always have to be a little on guard.
Young Master Peary tried hard to reflect, warning himself that he absolutely couldn't be fooled next time.
But the Maxwell Peary of the future would realize such reflections were useless.
Because whenever Nia Mitchell was involved, whether the matter was big or small, he would always lose his ability to judge.
"Alright, Uncle."
Nia Mitchell poked Maxwell Peary's shoulder with her finger, a smile lighting up her face.
"Hurry up, aren't we going to the old house?"
Nia Mitchell reminded him, then sat there and continued to read the article.
In fact, just by looking at the photos, I can guess whose handiwork this is.
