Although Shang Qinghua did not particularly like Rong Qinglei, he disliked Rong Tieshan and Rong Zishen even more.
If he had to deal with any of the imperial princes, he would rather choose Rong Qinglei.
At the very least, that man was somewhat intelligent.
Shang Qinghua suddenly felt his head aching terribly.
While leaning lazily against the side of the bed, he said, "Massage it for me."
Yue Mingxuan had no choice.
Shang Qinghua was incredibly shameless; if he refused to help massage his head who knew what sort of threats the man would come up with next.
Besides, Shang Qinghua himself truly had no idea how to do it properly.
Yue Mingxuan could hardly bear to watch his clumsy attempts.
The pressure points he pressed were all wrong, how could that possibly relieve fatigue?
After he sighing softly, Yue Mingxuan began to massage Shang Qinghua's head.
As he worked, he could not help feeling grateful that he had transmigrated into this body.
