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... As he looked at the furnishings, his face darkened.

Everything was of an old style, and many items were transferred from An Muyao’s room—things she no longer wanted, all placed in Nan Yan’s room.

Nan Yan didn’t pay attention to him and let him look around freely. She then pulled out a stack of clothes from the wardrobe and threw them on the floor.

“What are you doing?” An Xiran grabbed her hand, his brows furrowing even more intensely.

“I’m tidying up and getting rid ...

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When she stands, she’s like a white peony. When she sits, she’s like a tree peony. When she walks, she’s like a lily flower. And when you look her in the eyes, she’s like the Great King of Terror.

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“We could be louder,” he whispered in a raspy voice. She shook with need and was about to turn when he clucked his tongue. “Ah, ah, ah, don't do that. I'll see you later, little girl.” And with that, he vanished.

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