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“Jian Qing, what exactly are you trying to do?” Zhao Xuan pulls An Yu behind her, standing stiffly as she looks at Jian Qing, a faint hint of tension hiding in the depths of her eyes.
Jian Qing crosses her arms, raises an eyebrow, and smirks. “What are you nervous about? Or do you have a guilty conscience because of your misdeeds, hmm?”
Zhao Xuan’s body tenses up, her grip on An Yu unconsciously tightening. An Yu winces in pain.
“Mommy, you’re hurting me ...
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