"Ah?" Qiao Mo looked at him sleepily, a bit surprised.
"Call Xie Qinghuan." He repeated, his tone a few degrees heavier.
"Why... why?" Qiao Mo hadn't quite caught on.
His expression darkened a bit: "I said call her, so you call her."
"What should I say?" Qiao Mo turned her head to check the time, it's... but it's midnight, twelve o'clock.
Yan Jiu frowned slightly, "Say you're not feeling well and want her to come over to accompany you."
Qiao Mo was taken aback: "But I'm not unwell."
His gaze turned more dangerous: "I said say it, so say it."
"Oh..." Qiao Mo finally succumbed to his threat, hesitatingly dialed Xie Qinghuan's number.
The phone rang for a moment before it was answered, and a slightly drowsy voice came through: "Xiao Mo...?"
"Qinghuan, are you asleep?"
"Mmm, just slept for a while..." Xie Qinghuan turned on the bedside lamp and slowly sat up, losing a bit of her usual sharpness, gaining a touch of softness.
