"Oh."
Wen Qiao seemed to have listened to Qi Ming's words, but just as Qi Ming turned around feeling relieved, he heard Wen Qiao say, "If you don't mess around, this kitchen knife will never accidentally hurt you."
"......"
Qi Ming turned his head and saw Wen Qiao leaning on the counter, supporting half her body weight with one hand and examining a kitchen knife with the other. Noticing his gaze, Wen Qiao slowly lifted her eyelids to look at him, "So, do you understand now?"
Qi Ming quickly turned his head and took a step over to the trash bin, crouching down and silently peeling garlic.
Hearing a soft chuckle from Wen Qiao behind him, Qi Ming shivered involuntarily.
For some reason, the moment he heard Wen Qiao's laughter, the image that flashed through his mind was that of a chainsaw killer, only with the chainsaw replaced by a kitchen knife.
.....
Wen Qiao was terrifying; he definitely needed to find a chance to complain to his little uncle tonight.
