Song Qiao was seated on the sofa in the bedroom by Lu Jingchen, who imdiately turned around to fetch the dicine kit.
Once, Song Qiao accidentally injured her hand in the bedroom, so for convenience, Lu Jingchen had a dicine kit prepared inside the bedroom in case of ergencies.
Secondly, if soone was injured and needed to change dressings after a bath, there was no need to go out looking for the dicine kit; it was readily available here.
Song Qiao shifted her position, lying almost in a reclining posture on the sofa, clutching a pillow tightly in her hands, seemingly carrying a trace of nervousness.
Lu Jingchen knelt on one knee in front of her, placed the dicine kit on the side table and opened it, then picked up her injured hand, began to unwind the gauze, and on seeing that the palm was sowhat pale, clearly waterlogged, his expression imdiately turned grim. This was his first ti seeing her injured palm.
Looking up at Song Qiao, who had turned her head away to avoid his gaze, he reached out, turned her face back to face him, his voice tinged with anger, "Song Qiao, is this how you tornt yourself? Don’t you know you can’t expose an injured hand to water? Have you beco less intelligent because it’s been a few days since you were last taught a lesson?"
Song Qiao stared at the man’s angry face, dazed for a mont, but quickly becoming irritated, she struggled to keep her emotions in check and said through gritted teeth, "Are you going to change the dressing or not? If not, let go, I want to continue watching my movie."
As the day wore on, all the dissatisfaction surged to her heart in an instant, almost uncontrollably stirring her emotions and her tone becoming aggressive.
The man, seeing Song Qiao’s impatient face, felt anger rise from within because she didn’t cherish herself, his lips curling into a cold smirk, and he leaned down suddenly, pressing her down with one hand cupping her face, and kissed her lips.
Song Qiao’s eyes widened instantly, her gaze filled with an anger she hadn’t yet managed to suppress, the taste on her lips was like a faint mint chewing gum flavor, with a refreshing clean aura engulfing her like an imperable net, "Lu Jingchen, you..."
Song Qiao tried to struggle, but her chin was held firmly by the man, making her unable to break free, her brows furrowing in displeasure as she glared at him, biting her own teeth tightly.
A five-minute passionate French kiss left Song Qiao almost breathless, and by the ti Lu Jingchen released her, her face had turned beet red, gasping for fresh air.
Lu Jingchen rolled off her body, or to put it another way, he never fully exerted his weight on her from start to finish, his feet were always planted on the ground.
Caressing her chin with his fingers, the man’s voice ca hoarse from the recent kissing, "Qiaoqiao, don’t always challenge , I have plenty of ways to cure you."
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