She furrowed her brows, "Mo Shiche."
"You're willing to sleep with me but can't stand to help me wipe this off?" he said with a self-deprecating laugh, his eyes closed, "Is this what they call—being passionate in bed with someone you don't love, but not willing to give even a glance in real life?"
Luo Qiangwei, hearing his sarcastic tone, couldn't be bothered to argue with him anymore. Since he asked her to wipe it, she pulled out a few tissues and bent down to wipe the coffee from his face and shirt.
Only then did she notice that the right side of his face near the jawbone was reddened from the scald.
Pursing her lips, she didn't make any other gesture and casually wiped before throwing the tissue away, standing up straight, "I'm done wiping, you can talk now."
Mo Shiche looked down at his own clothes—the dark black shirt didn't show much, but the fine striped tie had been stained a coffee color, which looked unsightly.
