"What kind of torture, you say."
An offhand tone, not a hint of seriousness.
Doesn't really fit with "accepting torture." If someone said she's here to disrupt things, it might be more believable.
Ya Tianxing placed his palm on her head and leaned down slightly, his deliberately lowered tone filled with tenderness, "Do me a favor, and dial down the tough boss act?"
"..."
Whether it was his overly gentle voice, or the warm breath brushing against her ear, Mo Shangjun's defensive spikes unconsciously withdrew.
She extended a finger, letting the pad of her finger brush past his chin. Though the touch was brief, it was distinctly felt.
Tingling, somewhat cool, clearly teasing.
Mo Shangjun shot him a look — 'Fine! I'll give you this one.'
Ya Tianxing helplessly raised an eyebrow.
He squeezed her slightly reddened ear, stood up, and walked over to sit opposite her in the office chair.
