This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ
Chapter 54 – Birthday Greeting Card.
When Xiao Pai bounced into the practice room with a cheerful, lively stride, Sang Ye was staring blankly at his computer.
“Little Bai Mao~” Xiao Pai, in a cheeky tone, leaned over to Sang Ye’s ear and whispered, “Snap out of it!”
This time, for once, Sang Ye didn’t smack him away. In the blink of an eye—and without any further ado—he asked, “If you could send someone a birthday gift without spending a single cent, what would you give?”
“Hmm————”
Xiao Pai straightened up, tapped his chin with a finger, and pondered, twisting his lips in thought.
Then his face suddenly lit up, and he spread his hands, saying, “That means I wouldn’t send anything at all!”
Sang Ye replied, “…You can get lost.”
He shouldn’t have had any expectations of Xiaopai.
“La la la la la~” Xiao Pai rolled away playfully.
Taking advantage of the fact that Tan Mo hadn’t returned yet, Sang Ye opened Baidu and typed in the keywords:
[What is free?]
Then the search engine told him:
[There’s no such thing as a free lunch.]
“…………”
Sang Ye held his head in his hands; this time he was truly stumped.
For Sang Ye, if something can be solved with money, it’s no big deal—but Tan Mo wouldn’t let him spend a dime.
How can he deal with this?
Sang Ye scrolled down further, and a phrase caught his eye:
[Love, companionship, courage—they are free, yet they are the most expensive…]
Alright then.
Even more abstract.
Sang Ye’s face slammed against the table as he racked his brain, unable to figure it out.
Tan Mo hadn’t yet realized that his offhand remark had completely stumped the young man.
He went to the break room to wash his cup and ran into Yu Haotian.
Yu Haotian, who was about to light a cigarette, saw Tan Mo and, with an awkward laugh, slipped his cigarette into the pocket on his shirt over his chest, then turned aside to let Tan Mo use the sink.
Tan Mo washed his cup, and after a moment—without even looking up—he said, “What?”
Yu Haotian, who had been about to speak but then held his tongue, realizing he couldn’t hide it from Tan Mo, said, “Yesterday, when Song and An Liu got into a fight in the cafeteria, you… you just persuaded An Liu to drop out, didn’t you?”
“Don’t confuse cause and effect,” Tan Mo replied in a calm tone. “It has nothing to do with Song. It was An Liu who spread rumors about a teammate and broke the rules.”
Yu Haotian knew there was likely no turning back on this matter and sighed, “An Liu is too arrogant, and his temper is pretty bad. I can’t stand him either, but if we were to try to develop another player of his caliber, that wouldn’t happen overnight. You need to consider the cost—anyway, I think your coach is pretty conflicted about it.”
Tan Mo said nothing further, but his calm expression made it clear he wasn’t bothered.
Yu Haotian waved his hand dismissively and added, “Also, don’t chase after him. His contract doesn’t expire for another three months. I was even preparing a renewal contract, but since he screwed up on his own, no one should bother with him.”
Tan Mo turned off the faucet, grabbed a tissue from beside him, and wiped his hands. With an indifferent tone, he said, “You all handle it—I’m just making sure my message gets across.”
Yu Haotian shook his head helplessly, then pulled a cigarette from his pocket. “I can tell that Song is your absolute no-go zone.”
Tan Mo replied nonchalantly, “Why are you dragging Song into this when it’s strictly business?”
Yu Haotian jabbed his cigarette with his finger and said,
“Is there ever a perfectly harmonious team? The more people there are, the more mixed the interests become. Who hasn’t had a conflict with a teammate? It’s like the usual bumps in the workplace—if teammates can resolve their issues on their own, it never even reaches management. I believe Song can handle it; I think it’s great that he had the nerve to expose An Liu’s problems in public. But you… you immediately removed someone from the team. In the past, you never even really looked at the grievances between Shine and An Liu, so why is it that with Song, you won’t tolerate it?”
Then, he jabbed the cigarette filter again and added,
“You’re protecting him too well.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” Tan Mo replied, lowering his eyes as he tossed a crumpled piece of paper into the trash. He walked over and extended his hand, saying,
“Here, have a cigarette.”
“Yo! Boss Tan,” Yu Haotian exclaimed in surprise, “since when did you learn to smoke?”
Tan Mo answered,
“Today.”
“…Are you having some unsolvable troubles?” Yu Haotian asked as he handed Tan Mo a cigarette.
“Troubles? I have plenty,” Tan Mo replied as he borrowed a lighter, lit his cigarette, and took a drag.
A thin, milky smoke began to curl and spread, refracting a delicate layer of light that fell over Tan Mo’s clean, indifferent features. His pale face acquired an entirely different texture and aura.
The next second, he coughed violently.
Yu Haotian fell silent.
Really.
Don’t try to show off.
It just ends up looking pathetic.
Tan Mo coughed until his face turned red, then casually stubbed out his cigarette in the sink basket, grabbed his cup, and left, saying,
“No more smoking in the break room from now on.”
Yu Haotian watched Tan Mo’s departing back and, clearly annoyed, muttered,
“I didn’t provoke you.”
…
At noon during a break, Sang Ye was curled up on the practice room’s sofa, holding a tablet and doodling with a pen. His eyes were serious and focused, occasionally tilting his head in thought and lightly furrowing his brows.
Xiao Pai entered the room, his eyes lighting up as he exclaimed, “Boss, back to your old tricks?”
Sang Ye snapped his iPad shut with a sharp click and sat up from the sofa.
Xiao Pai squeezed over next to him, grinning broadly, “Since we’re so familiar by now, just tell me—what’s your other ID?”
Sang Ye looked puzzled. “What ID?”
Xiao Pai replied, “The one you use as an artist.”
Sang Ye stood up, “…I’m not an artist.”
Xiao Pai then pulled him back down, “You were drawing just now, weren’t you?”
Sang Ye paused for about two seconds.
But in that brief moment, Xiao Pai caught him out, “So stop hiding it. The first time I saw you at the tournament, you were sitting next to me, drawing away on your iPad—I knew right then you were a real talent.”
Hu Fu leaned back in his chair and remarked, “Song, you really are multi-talented. Show us your work.”
Sang Ye pursed his lips and said in a firm tone, “I’m not showing it.”
Xiao Pai, utterly curious, pleaded, “Come on, boss, just tell us—I promise I won’t blab to anyone.”
—“What do you mean by not telling others?”
Just then, Tan Mo walked in from outside carrying a bag of yogurt, and casually placed it on Sang Ye’s desk.
Without hesitation, Xiao Pai pointed at Sang Ye and declared, “He can draw! He’s a real artist!”
Sang Ye’s face flushed instantly, and he shot a sharp, cutting glare at Xiao Pai.
“Isn’t that what you call not gossiping?”
Tan Mo cast a sidelong glance at Sang Ye’s high-end iPad.
Sang Ye instinctively pulled the tablet close to his chest.
“I didn’t—I’m not—I was just messing around…”
Tan Mo walked over and studied Sang Ye’s shy face for a couple of seconds before raising an eyebrow and asking, “A birthday gift?”
Sang Ye froze noticeably, repeatedly pressing his lips together as he clutched the tablet even tighter.
“My goodness!” Xiao Pai finally realized, exclaiming, “You’re drawing a birthday greeting for my brother, huh? How thoughtful, White Hair!”
Sang Ye frowned, clearly irritated by Xiao Pai’s incessant chatter—his face nearly buried in his chest.
Just as Xiao Pai was about to start teasing him further, Tan Mo turned to him and asked, “What gift are you giving me?”
Xiao Pai’s enthusiasm abruptly deflated with a dismissive “ga,” and after glancing around, he stretched lazily and yawned, “Oh man, I’m so tired—I’m gonna catch some sleep.”
Meanwhile, Hu Fu had already collapsed, pretending to be dead.
Ignoring them, Tan Mo pulled a chair over and sat down, then moved closer to Sang Ye and pointed at the iPad. “Have you finished your drawing?”
Sang Ye hesitated for a moment, silently nodded, but then quickly shook his head.
Tan Mo asked, “How long have you been drawing?”
Sang Ye gripped his pen and mumbled, “Half a year…”
Xiao Pai, sprawled on the table, lifted a corner of his jacket and winked at Hu Fu.
Half a year! That meant Bai Mao had been drawing for Talk even before he joined the team. Not to mention the depth of sentiment behind it—just imagine how magnificent the final piece must be!
Xiao Pai could hardly fathom it, but he knew it would undoubtedly be a major production!
After a moment of silence, Tan Mo spoke softly, his voice unusually gentle and warm:
“Let me see.”
Sang Ye shrank back against the sofa and muttered, “Ugly.”
Tan Mo reached for Sang Ye’s wrist and, deliberately softening his tone as if coaxing him, said, “Even an ugly daughter-in-law has to face her in-laws eventually—if you’re going to give it to me, at least let me take a look.”
Sang Ye muttered under his breath and shook his head, his tone both coy and tender, melting him from within.
He seemed like a completely different person from the one who usually shouted “Just wait for it!”
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu exchanged amused, cheesy glances, almost eager to rub their arms in delight.
But despite his continued reluctance and shyness, in the end, Sang Ye couldn’t resist Tan Mo’s request and gradually let go of the tablet.
Sang Ye was actually very insecure; his original intention when he drew that picture half a year ago was to give it to Tan Mo on his birthday. However, he was never satisfied with how it turned out and had planned to hide it away. But now that Tan Mo said he wanted a free gift, he had no choice but to bring it out again.
Tan Mo lowered his head, lifted the protective cover, and asked, “Six-digit password?”
“My birthday,” Sang Ye replied, “04…”
But Tan Mo simply said, “Got it.”
Sang Ye was momentarily stunned, then quickly added, “Not according to the Gregorian calendar—it’s…”
Tan Mo had already unlocked it and entered the main interface, saying, “The Spring Equinox.”
Sang Ye shrugged slightly, and a hint of warmth stirred inside him. He never expected that Talk would even know he was born on the Spring Equinox.
As Tan Mo opened the drawing software, Sang Ye’s heart began to race, and he frantically typed out a patch, “It doesn’t look good, really doesn’t look good. Just take a quick look—don’t show it to anyone else…”
Sensing the young man’s nervousness, Tan Mo smiled and opened the first image. The moment the picture appeared, his gaze paused briefly, and his smile turned somewhat somber.
“Let me see!” Xiao Pai exclaimed, jumping up with his jacket on and, with lightning speed, leaping onto Tan Mo’s shoulder.
Hu Fu, almost simultaneously, also leaned onto Tan Mo’s other shoulder and craned his neck to look.
“What the heck?!”
Sang Ye’s head practically exploded; he frantically tried to snatch the iPad back, but it was already too late.
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu burst into laughter with a snort.
Xiao Pai clutched his stomach, barely able to speak through his laughter. “Hahahahaha! Bai Mao! Your art style truly defines what it means for facial features to fly apart—his face looks like a sharp cone! Are you and Picasso from the same school of thought?”
Hu Fu’s shoulders shook as he added, “I think it’s… pretty good, really. I mean, I wouldn’t say it’s exactly like Tan Shen, but—pfft—!”
Both Xiao Pai and Hu Fu had received fan-drawn character portraits before, but none were as… unique as Sang Ye’s. The brushstrokes were rough and unpolished, the facial structure was completely off, and the eyes sparkled like two multicolored light bulbs. The chin formed an exaggerated inverted V-shape—if he added a background of blooming flowers, the entire piece would look even more dramatic than the covers of romance magazines sold at newsstands a decade ago.
It was only now that they realized Sang Ye hadn’t been modest—he really just couldn’t draw.
Sang Ye’s face turned bright red. He snatched the tablet away in one swift motion, turned onto his side on the sofa, and buried himself between the cushions, his back facing everyone.
Tan Mo grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa and, without hesitation, hurled it at Xiao Pai’s face.
It hit with considerable force. Xiao Pai let out a muffled grunt and immediately went silent.
Then, Tan Mo threw another at Hu Fu before pressing a third one directly into his arms.
The two chatterboxes finally quieted down, sensing the drop in Tan Mo’s mood.
They rubbed their noses, realizing they had gone too far. Glancing at Sang Ye’s sulking figure, they hesitated for a moment before awkwardly retreating from the practice room.
As for Sang Ye, they knew Tan Mo would handle it. Staying any longer would just be unnecessary.
Once the room returned to silence, Tan Mo walked over to the sofa, bent down, and rested one hand against the wall. With the other, he gently pinched Sang Ye’s soft, fair ear. His voice was calm, with a hint of amusement.
“Alright, all the annoying ones are gone.”
Sang Ye clutched his tablet and rubbed his face against the sofa, burying himself even deeper into the cushions.
He sniffled and pressed his lips together, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment.
He knew his drawing wasn’t good. He had never studied art professionally.
It was just that Bilibili kept recommending him videos on learning Japanese, voice acting, and illustration. On a whim, he signed up for an online illustration class, hoping to draw something nice for Talk—just like the other talented fans who expressed their admiration through their art.
But once he actually started, he realized that drawing was much harder than it looked. It was nothing like the teacher made it seem at the beginning. He practiced diligently for six months, only to end up with this.
At the thought of it, Sang Ye pouted slightly.
He felt a little wronged.
Tan Mo’s eyes flickered with amusement and affection. He knelt on one knee beside the sofa and said, “Ignore them. I really like it. Send me the original file.”
The tips of Sang Ye’s ears flushed red, and for a moment, he was tempted to believe him. But the thought was quickly extinguished by reason.
Liar.
If only Tan Mo had seen it and said that, maybe he could’ve believed it. But Xiao Pai and Hu Fu had laughed so hard—that was the real reaction.
His drawing was just bad.
No one would actually like it.
Sang Ye remained motionless, silent, as if determined to lie on the sofa until the end of time.
Tan Mo reached out, intending to smooth the boy’s messy hair, but halfway through, he hesitated and stopped. For once, he was at a loss.
But he truly did like it.
Every stroke of Sang Ye’s drawing was clumsy yet carefully placed. It was obvious he had no foundation in art, but from the sketch to the coloring, he had completed every step with impressive dedication.
Regardless of how the final result looked, for someone like Sang Ye—who was usually so brash—to have the patience to finish a drawing was already against his very nature.
And knowing that Sang Ye had been working on it for six months only deepened Tan Mo’s thoughts.
How many people in the world would spend half a year just for him?
Not to mention that even before that, Sang Ye had been quietly supporting him from the shadows for so long.
Through that drawing, Tan Mo could feel something more precious and pure than any gift in the world.
Straightening up, he leaned closer and gently tucked a loose strand of Sang Ye’s hair behind his ear.
Sang Ye stiffened slightly. He felt the cool touch of Tan Mo’s fingers brush against his temple and ear, sending a shiver down his spine. His arms instinctively tightened around the iPad as a beautiful blush spread across his cheeks.
Then, he felt a hand cup his ear, followed by warm breath ghosting over his skin. His nerve endings tingled at the sensation, a delicate shiver running down his back.
He bit his lower lip immediately—desperately trying to suppress any sound that might escape.
Then, a deep, magnetic voice murmured against his ear:
“Your presence is the best gift…”
“Send it to me.”
“I really like it.”
Sang Ye’s mind went completely blank, as if he had fallen into a soft, pure-white cloud.
He blinked slowly, feeling like he was being bewitched by the man’s voice.
…
At noon, Tan Mo was about to leave.
Sang Ye’s face was still burning, but he insisted on going to the base entrance with Xiao Pai and the others to see him off.
A woman came to pick up Tan Mo, driving a Ferrari. She looked to be in her early thirties—beautiful, elegant, and exuding an air of sophistication.
Sang Ye assumed she was his older sister, but Xiao Pai whispered, “That’s his stepmom.”
Sang Ye: “…Oh.”
No wonder they didn’t look alike at all.
Before leaving, Tan Mo gave them a simple reminder to train well.
When he reached Sang Ye, he tilted his chin up slightly and said, “Don’t miss me.”
Sang Ye’s face turned scarlet, and he nearly jumped in protest. “As if I would!”
Xiao Pai and Hu Fu exchanged looks, their expressions hard to describe.
Even after the Ferrari slowly pulled away, Sang Ye still seemed a little unconvinced, glancing back over his shoulder as he walked up the steps.
Xiao Pai sighed, “Alright, alright, he’s gone.”
Sang Ye turned back around, muttering under his breath, “I wouldn’t miss him anyway…”
The three of them passed by a vending machine.
Xiao Pai called out to Sang Ye, “Hey, Bai Mao, pick anything you want. My treat.”
Sang Ye wasn’t interested. He waved his hand dismissively and continued walking toward the practice room.
Ever since he got a thermos, he had mostly been drinking hot water.
Xiao Pai quickly grabbed a tea drink, caught up to him, and handed it over with a grin. “Consider this my apology, alright?”
He was referring to how he had laughed at Sang Ye’s poor drawing skills earlier.
Sang Ye took the drink, his tone indifferent. “I’m not that petty.”
Hu Fu chuckled at the boy’s tsundere attitude and said, “Don’t worry. No matter what you give him, Tan Shen will like it.”
“Exactly! Not just like it—he’ll be totally flattered. You know you’re the only one in our club who’s ever given him a gift, right?” Xiao Pai added. “None of us bother. I mean, Dad Tan is so rich, he doesn’t lack anything. If we buy him something expensive, it hurts our wallets. If it’s cheap, it feels too shabby. But giving him a drawing? That’s super creative! If I had a fan who spent half a year drawing something for me, I’d totally frame it and hang it by my bed!”
“Yeah, right.” Sang Ye lowered his gaze, unimpressed by all the praise. “It’s not even good, and it’s not practical either. Talk only accepted it out of politeness.”
The other two exchanged a glance.
Xiao Pai slung an arm around Sang Ye’s shoulder like a good buddy and sighed. “Okay, fine, the art style is a bit… unconventional. But trust me, your sincerity definitely got through to Tan Shen. That’s what a gift is all about.”
Sang Ye clicked his tongue and shrugged Xiao Pai’s arm off. “You’re the one with an eyesore of a face.”
Xiao Pai didn’t take offense. As long as this little brat was back to his usual self, that was good enough.
Just as Sang Ye returned to the practice room, a message popped up in the team group chat—Yu Haotian had tagged everyone.
YuNiHuanXi: [The official account just posted the roster for the Intercontinental Championship. Share it.]
Sang Ye opened the list and took a glance. Their four-man team was in the starting lineup.
The substitute was E Lan.
An Liu wasn’t even on the list.
Sang Ye found it a bit strange. The club hadn’t held any selection trials recently, yet it seemed like Elan had been directly appointed as the substitute.
However, he didn’t care too much and went to Weibo to repost the announcement.
But before he could even hit the share button, his Weibo notifications exploded.
In an instant, a flood of people started tagging him like crazy. The sheer frequency and volume of mentions made Sang Ye wonder if he had somehow gotten himself into trouble again.
He clicked on one of the notifications, which redirected him to Tan Mo’s Weibo. It showed that Tan Mo had shared the official intercontinental championship announcement just a minute ago.
Nothing unusual.
But as his eyes scanned the page, Sang Ye suddenly froze.
He saw that Tan Mo had changed his Weibo profile picture.
The new avatar featured a 2D character with a chiseled, pointy face, dazzling rainbow-colored eyes, and thin lips curved into a charming smile.
…
#Talk’s New Profile Picture#
[Clicked on the hashtag out of curiosity… D*mn, those blindingly colorful Carslán eyes nearly sent me to another dimension.]
[Did Talk get hacked?]
[The once-cool and aloof god is now embracing a meme-worthy aesthetic? Open the profile pic at your own risk.]
RapNewGen: [All the pro fan artists must be sobbing in the bathroom right now. Every year, they pour their souls into making stunning character designs for Talk, yet this is the one he picks for his profile pic… Don’t tell me he drew it himself?]
wlg-Talk replied to @RapNewGen: [Song drew it. Nice, right?]
…
On the first night after Tan Mo left, Sang Ye glanced at the empty seat beside him. The spot was so clean and tidy that it somehow felt unnervingly vacant.
A strange sense of unfamiliarity crept into his heart.
This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Back when they were in the second team, there was a period when Tan Mo wasn’t in great form and frequently skipped evening training sessions.
At the time, Sang Ye hadn’t thought much of it.
But after the summer tournament, Tan Mo’s presence had become a constant. Now, his occasional absence left Sang Ye feeling strangely unsettled.
The next day, Sang Ye barely spoke to anyone. Xiao Pai, as usual, tried to chat him up, but Sang Ye just couldn’t muster the energy to respond.
By the time evening training wrapped up, it was nearly eleven. Sang Ye shut down his equipment and got ready to leave.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tan Mo’s team jacket draped over the back of a chair.
During summer, the air conditioning in the training room could get quite cold, and sometimes Tan Mo would throw on his jacket to keep warm.
Sang Ye wasn’t sure what came over him. His expression flickered with guilt as he glanced around. Everyone else had already left, and no one would be passing by the practice room at this hour.
Leaning in, he brought his face close to the collar of Tan Mo’s jacket and took a quiet breath.
Almost immediately, he straightened up, scanning his surroundings once again with heightened vigilance.
Once he was sure the coast was clear, he reached for the team jacket, letting it pile softly onto the desk. Then, without hesitation, he buried his face in it.
Tan Mo’s familiar scent surrounded him in an instant, as if he had been submerged in a tranquil sea.
A tiny seed—one called longing—silently broke through the soil, sending ripples through the depths of his heart.
…
The 23rd happened to fall on a Saturday.
The first thing Sang Ye did after waking up was check his phone, only to be met with disappointment—there was no reply from Tan Mo.
He had sent his birthday wishes right at midnight.
Maybe Talk received too many messages, and mine got buried under the others…
Sang Ye tried to console himself.
At noon, Xiao Pai went out to have fun and invited Sang Ye to join him.
Sang Ye declined. Instead, he spent the entire afternoon quietly in the practice room with Tan Chunshan and the dog.
By evening, a small icon in the bottom-right corner of his screen began flashing.
Sang Ye clicked on it.
T.: [Thank you ❤️]
Sang Ye let out a breath of relief—but he didn’t fully relax.
He had hoped Tan Mo would say something more, but that was all.
Maybe Tan Mo was just too busy. It had been a while since they last talked.
Not wanting to dwell on it, Sang Ye decided to start a live stream.
The chat was instantly flooded with messages urging him to wear women’s clothing.
At that moment, he couldn’t help but think of the cheongsam still hanging quietly in his wardrobe. His face heated up, and he rubbed it to cover his reaction.
For a brief second, he felt relieved that Tan Mo wasn’t here today.
Otherwise, would he really have to fulfill Talk’s previous request and wear women’s clothing for him on his birthday?
Just then—
The small icon flashed again.
Without thinking, Sang Ye clicked on it.
T.: [Aren’t you still owing me something?]
Sang Ye: “?”
The chat had a clear view of the message and reacted in sync:
[“???”]
[“What’s going on? Alright, we’ll step back—carry on with your private conversation.”]
T.: [You can send me a photo.]
T.: [Even if the effect isn’t perfect, I don’t mind.]
Sang Ye stared at the screen, completely bewildered.
What photo?
A flash of realization struck.
Sang Ye’s face instantly turned red.
Then he suddenly remembered—he was still live streaming! He quickly closed the chat window.
The chat exploded in protest.
[“What do you owe Tan Shen?”]
[“What photo? Explain clearly!”]
[“Do you two have some kind of secret?”]
Sang Ye ignored the chaos. He picked up his phone, ready to message Tan Mo and tell him that he was live streaming.
Before he could type, another message came in.
T.: [Just joking.]
T.: [Are you busy right now?]
Sang Ye deleted what he was about to send and replied.
S.: [Not busy.]
T.: [I’m about to boost a fan in ranked. Want to join?]
Sang Ye suddenly remembered—Tan Mo had been “auctioned” for two hours, meaning he was probably playing with the fan who had won the bid.
S.: [Okay.]
Moments later, Sang Ye received a team invitation in the game.
He accepted and saw that besides Talk, there was another player—a female character with a username in pinyin:
[fengyiyangdenvzi]
Sang Ye frowned slightly.
The thought of Talk duo-queuing with a female fan made him feel… oddly unsettled.
A small speaker icon flashed beside “Feng Yi Yang De Nv Zi,” and then a cheerful voice rang out:
“Wow, you really got Song to join! Thank you, Tan Shen! You’re a great guy—I have no regrets spending 3.2 million on this. What a bargain, buy one get one free! Haha, hi Song, can you hear me?”
Sang Ye was a little cold and hummed.
“What other wishes do you have?” Tan Mo asked the female fan in a faint voice, “You can tell me all at once.”
Hearing the man’s attitude of serving customers in a businesslike manner, Sang Ye felt a little relieved.
The next second.
The windy woman: “I want to see you make love.”
Sang Ye: “…………”
Tan Mo: “…………”
“Can I?” The windy woman began to beg, “I will have no regrets even if I die.”