After returning to the sofa where he would be putting down roots for the near future, Li Mao naturally pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
Ever since moving in with that bastard Wan Fuqi, his already-not-low smoking frequency had shot straight up.
It had gotten so high that sometimes he suspected this was all a conspiracy by Wan Fuqi to give him lung cancer at a young age and die before him.
After all, living with someone like that while maintaining a regular physical relationship with him—if he did not numb himself with nicotine, the chances of suffering a mental breakdown might be far higher than the chances of getting cancer.
Having found himself a perfectly legitimate reason for his recent increase in smoking, Li Mao was feeling perfectly justified as he happily prepared to light up when he lowered his head and met the little brat in his arms eye to eye.
His thumb loosened from the lighter.
The flame immediately shrank back.
Shit, he had forgotten there was still a baby hostage in his arms.
Li Mao hurriedly took the cigarette from his mouth and stuffed it back into the pack.
Though he could not expose a child to secondhand smoke, there was no need to waste it.
He would save up all the secondhand smoke and bring it home for that mad dog to breathe in.
He wanted to see who would outlive whom in the end, and whose life was tougher.
Though Li Mao had not evolved to the point of respecting the elderly and caring for the young, he was not some living King Yama either.
The conditions his employer had offered were to get the money back—or even if they could not get the money, just make Xu Zhihua's family worry for a while