Shao Ke stopped him and pressed a tablet into his dramatically outstretched hand.
Distracted, Yan Ningke glanced down. "What's this?"
Dozens of outfits were listed on the tablet, all youthful, lively, fashionable casual ensembles.
Shao Ke raised a hand and brushed the dog hair off his trousers with perfect ease, his tone calm. "See if there's anything you like."
Yan Ningke looked at him in surprise. "Why are you suddenly giving me clothes?"
What was going on? He had only gone out for a bit, and now there were snacks and clothes.
They said a dying man's words were kind.
Some people who developed incurable illnesses would buy things for the person they loved most-a title he had bestowed on himself.
Could it be?
Yan Ningke lunged over and hugged his arm, letting out grief-stricken wails without a single tear. "Mr. Shao, don't die, Mr. Shao! We've depended on each other and shared good times and bad for so many days. I've already come to think of you as family. Who knew I'd have to bury someone younger than me? Boo-hoo!"
He put on an excellent performance, beating his chest and stamping his feet-except it was the chest of the man beside him, and he sneaked in a few gropes for his own benefit.
Wow, pecs! I want to lick them!
Shao Ke's face darkened, a vein twitching at his temple. He narrowed his eyes at him and said in a low voice, "If you don't move that hand, don't expect to take it away at all today!"
Ummm.
Yan Ningke promptly withdrew his hand and smiled sweetly.
"Weren't you mourning me? Where are the tears?"
Shao Ke gripped his chin, his gaze dangerous. "Cry. Why aren't you crying anymore?"
His imposing presence came out in full force. Yan Ningke