Su Qinglan decided the show was absolutely not over.
If anything, she felt it was barely getting started.
With a delicate sigh, she arranged her expression into the perfect mix of pitiful beauty and subtle villainess charm. Then she turned those eyes...those big, innocent, lying eyes toward Han Jue, whose face was still red enough to roast meat on.
"Han Jue…" she murmured shyly, voice soft as a feather. "My whole body hurts… how am I supposed to apply the paste like this?"
To add some artistic credibility, she shifted just a little.
Hss—!
A sharp hiss of pain escaped her.
And that part wasn't acting. Her hips did, in fact, send an entire complaint letter to the heavens.
Han Jue's brain, already fragile, immediately collapsed into panic mode. The cold aura he was known for evaporated like steam in fire.
"Lan Lan, don't move!" he blurted, stepping closer so fast his hair nearly blew back. "It hurts...you shouldn't move. Don't move."
