"Don't argue." Qiao Jingchen retorted, his face flushed red: "You did it on purpose."
Zhuang Yuezhou met Qiao Jingchen's swollen eyes, the bloodshot appearance filled with painful empathy.
He knew that the best way for him to forget this sadness was to stay in a playful, ambiguous atmosphere.
He still held Qiao Jingchen's hand and placed it on the raised part of his trousers, speaking: "Actually, Jingchen, I didn't do it on purpose either. These past few days were Xiaoqiao's father Mr. Shen's funeral days, we both haven't been together, you've been giving me the cold shoulder and wouldn't let me touch you. I'm like this now because it's the most basic reaction of a man, so you can't call me a pervert, that's too hurtful."
Qiao Jingchen: "...."
He lowered his head and glanced at Zhuang Yuezhou.
Zhuang Yuezhou's eyes looked forward, also checking the distance from the cameras around, considering the angles, hoping that nothing would be captured, to avoid awkwardness.
