"What do you want me to do? I can't go back now." Luo Ying's voice was almost addictive, causing the disquiet in Lu Zhao's body to flare up again.
"Why don't you tell me a story? I might be able to fall asleep if I listen to your voice," Luo Ying said coquettishly.
Lu Zhao was speechless.
"Isn't telling stories something that only parents do to their children? Are you trying to be my daughter?" He couldn't help but complain.
Luo Ying thought about it for a moment. That wasn't impossible. After all, she had a responsible, rich, and handsome father like Lu Zhao. She should be very happy to be his daughter.
Thus, Luo Ying threw a flirtatious look at the camera and said in a coy voice, "Then, daddy Lu, can you tell me a story and put me to sleep?"
Lu Zhao, who had lived for 25 years and still had no experience in relationships, was just making a casual remark. He didn't expect Luo Ying to be so thick-skinned and take advantage of the situation, even roleplaying with him.
