Song Qiao's fingers by her side involuntarily clenched into fists as the feeling of discontent slowly rose within her, but she was helpless to do anything about it.
She laughed out of extreme anger and looked straight at Xi Mohan's face, speaking in a tone neither cold nor warm, "To go to such lengths for your good brother, Xi Mohan, honestly, I have to admit defeat."
Xi Mohan remained calm and collected, his tall and erect stature simply standing there, his facial expression somewhat obscure under the light, "If you insist on understanding it that way, I can't help you."
He has always been too lazy to explain, and he doesn't like explaining the meaning behind his actions to others, let alone take the initiative to do so.
What others think is their business, not his own.
