Fu Lanshen felt the tense string in his mind had completely snapped.
Snapped.
Snapped...
"I want you to kiss me!"
Fu Lanshen struggled to sober up; he couldn't take advantage of a drunkard.
But this particular drunkard wouldn't have it her way, clinging to him tenaciously, as if she wouldn't rest until she achieved her goal, hugging his neck and mumbling, "Kiss me! Quick, quick!"
If this kept up, even a Saint would be overwhelmed, let alone him—Fu Lanshen's gaze began to wander uncontrollably as he gritted his teeth and growled, "Mu, Qing, Li!"
"Uh-huh," Mu Qingli looked at him, "What do you want?"
"Who am I?" Fu Lanshen continued.
"Kiss me and I'll tell you."
Fu Lanshen: "..."
"Quick, kiss me!" Mu Qingli embraced his neck.
With no other choice, Fu Lanshen kissed her lightly on the face.
It was brief and shallow,
like a dragonfly skimming water.
"You are an ugly thing!" Mu Qingli laughed triumphantly.
