As Ji Yan's voice, it criticized at just the right moment: "This student, it's still class time, don't make a disruption."
"Fei Yan is really impressive." Hong Zhuang admired.
Ning Feiyan dismissively raised her eyes: "It's just that he's too inexperienced."
This sort of tone, as if commenting on goods, caused Baili An to ignore the Sanskrit he was copying out in his hands. He directly tore it to pieces, his red-tinted eyes watery and looking down below as he gritted his teeth: "Ning—Feiyan—"
Ning Feiyan, however, looked innocent and puzzled: "I don't understand, you're putting on an act up there, not even seeing us, how can you tell who's disturbing you?"
Baili An's chest heaved heavily, his gaze blazing with fire, he muttered: "I just know."
"What?"
"Every time you mischievously touch me, there's always a subconscious movement."
Baili An awkwardly glanced at Ning Feiyan: "Your little finger always subconsciously flicks at me, so I just know it's you."
