"Qhianqhian, if you don't come, I'm calling you until your phone is dead!" Qin Nuan washed her hands angrily, leaning on the wall with a pained expression.
Qhianqhian swallowed: "Does it hurt a lot? Do you want me to buy you a hot drink? What would you like?"
"My foot's asleep, okay?" Qin Nuan rolled her eyes, rubbing her belly: "But strangely enough, my stomach doesn't hurt at all this time."
"Isn't it good that it doesn't hurt? You want it to hurt?" Qhianqhian pursed her lips with disdain.
"No... Forget it, forget it. Hey, is that person acting?" The two walked out of the teaching building and saw a young man in front holding an Iron Brush...
"I saw him earlier." Qhianqhian shrugged: "Feels like he's a naive apprentice from some shaman master."
Qin Nuan was curious: "Shaman? People say shamans can tell fortunes, could that brush be for writing some fateful words?"
