"Speaking of which," Ye Qingyu shook his head again, "but how can the faces be worlds apart? One face is exquisite, beautiful, and fashionable. The other face looks like the surface of the moon, dusty and shabby."
"President, regarding this question, I can't answer you." Because both of them are me. My explosive temper—honestly, I just want to slap your face twice.
"True, I suppose you'll never experience what it feels like to have skin as fair as snow in your lifetime. Just look at your face—so waxy yellow, like you're malnourished. Sigh… such a pity. Wasting such a great figure. Sigh…"
Ye Qingyu let out a sigh, as if he were genuinely lamenting for Luo Qingli.
Only Luo Qingli knew: this man was deliberately tearing her down. Still holding a grudge about being carried over her shoulder.
