Jiang Zhi clung to people like a dog.
Zhou Xufang was so badgered by him that she felt embarrassed and changed the subject, "Is Lu Xinglan's hypersomnia congenital?" It seemed not just ordinary hypersomnia but a very strange illness.
She was very curious.
Jiang Zhi placed the cup on the table with a loud clunk, "I don't know."
Zhou Xufang blinked her pleading eyes brightly, "Can it be cured?"
He licked his teeth, "How would I know?"
"He—"
Unable to help himself, he got annoyed, "If you ask about Lu Xinglan again, I'll get mad."
Zhou Xufang, who was slow on the uptake, finally smelled the vinegar.
"Oh, I won't ask anymore." She drank water and didn't speak.
Jiang Zhi was still sulking.
He was already jealous, and she didn't even soothe him.
Annoyed, but unable to scold her, he grabbed her hat and yanked her close, staring ferociously, "Why are you so interested in Lu Xinglan?"
