"..." Tianxin looked at Chen Yiran, who seemed a bit tired, then reached out to nudge his arm and asked, "Hmm, is there something wrong or not?"
"What did you just call me?" Chen Yiran turned his head, as if suddenly recalling something, and asked Tianxin.
"Huh? Yiran-ge..." Tianxin was momentarily stunned, looked into Chen Yiran's eyes, and casually replied.
"You're still calling me Yiran-ge?" Chen Yiran slowly rose from the sofa, stood in front of Tianxin, and extended a slender hand to gently stroke her sleek, jet-black hair.
"Uh..." Tianxin stared at his face, now so close, and found herself unable to react for a moment.
"What should you call me?" Chen Yiran's face moved even closer to Tianxin, and a faint scent of alcohol drifted toward her.
"Call... call you what?" Tianxin stared at his deep eyes fixed directly on her, feeling as if her brain had completely shut down.
