"Do you still want a next time?" Wen Ran was really angry.
Did he not care about his injury at all? The wound was in that location, and any forceful movement of his arm would pull at the wound, "Do you not want this arm anymore?"
Mo Xiuchen was most afraid of Ranran getting angry. As her little face turned cold, he could only offer a placating smile, "Ranran, what I mean is, next time, I won't move, I'll leave the initiative to you, how about that?"
"No."
"It's not like we haven't done that before." Mo Xiuchen said in a low voice.
As his words ended, Wen Ran's little face flushed to the roots of her ears. Unbidden, those images surfaced in her mind, and she called out his full name in embarrassment and indignation: "Mo Xiuchen."
Mo Xiuchen let out a string of pleased laughter from his throat, his eyebrows relaxed, and his smile charming. He was irresistibly enchanting, "Ranran, I still prefer you calling me Xiuchen, or Dust."
