Wen Jiaren naturally understood what Mu Qian meant, picked up the teacup on the table, and fiercely threw it at him, "You're despicable."
Mu Qian moved his body slightly, avoiding the spilled tea, skillfully catching the teacup with his slender fingers, his deep, inscrutable black eyes tightly fixed on her, repeating the two words from before, "Come here."
Wen Jiaren raised her face, "Dream on."
Mu Qian didn't speak again, holding the teacup as he walked toward the sofa. Wen Jiaren thought he was going to grab her, reflexively stepping back a few steps, but Mu Qian just bent down, gently placed the teacup on the table, then sat down across from her.
Wen Jiaren, "..."
Could his meaning just now have been: You don't come over, so I'll come to you?
Then her instinctive retreat just now, wouldn't it seem ridiculous and useless in his eyes?
Wen Jiaren's face turned cold again as she sat back down on the sofa, pretending to be calm, "What do you want to say?"
