Su Qiao, who had slammed into his rock-hard pectorals and hurt her nose: "..."
Did she not know whether she was tired?
Huo Sihan had gotten his wish and was holding her close. His handsome, fair face had gone so red it looked ready to drip blood.
He had not been physically close to anyone for many years, let alone held someone so intimately.
Only after truly holding her in his arms did he realize that she was even smaller than he had imagined.
So small, and so soft.
Just like the Little White Dog he had raised when he was young.
At the thought of the Little White Dog, his body suddenly stiffened, and an almost imperceptible trace of terror flickered through his eyes.
At that moment, what surfaced in his mind was a small creature that had been skinned alive, lying in a pool of blood, whimpering and trembling.
Crouching beside the creature, a man with blood all over his hands stared ferociously at his helpless younger self, as if telling him, "You're next."
Huo Sihan felt a little panicked. He instinctively tightened his hold on the person in his arms, but in the next moment, he suddenly and reflexively set Su Qiao down on the seat beside him.
"..." Su Qiao, who had already accepted this man's domineering behavior, widened her eyes.
Was there something wrong with him?
She had told him to put her down earlier, but he had refused. Now he had suddenly thrown her onto the seat.
"I'm sorry."
A trace of regret flashed through the man's eyes.
His movement had been too rough just now, and she was still ill.
Actually, no one knew that Huo Sihan had a minor quirk.
He particularly liked small, delicate things, such as kittens, puppies, and hamsters.