Ou Lan just couldn't understand. This man was willing to kneel publicly to save her and wouldn't even let go of her hand despite a bullet piercing his chest—clearly, she weighed heavily on his heart.
So here comes the question, why wouldn't a man who values her so much agree to her going home to live a good life with him?
Was he feverish? Did his brain short-circuit?
Thinking thus, she reached out with her little hand to touch his forehead—it didn't seem hot.
Zhan Moxiao chuckled inside, quickly pushing her little hand away, "I'm not feverish, and my brain hasn't short-circuited either."
Ou Lan, "..."
He's back from injury and now he knows how to read minds?
She sulkily withdrew her hand, "You're neither feverish nor crazy, so why won't you agree to let me come back?"
Zhan Moxiao curled his lips wickedly, taunting her, "Exactly because I'm neither feverish nor crazy, that's why I don't agree. I don't make a habit of going back to old flames."
