Zong Zhan's smirk grew colder, "Lost your phone and wallet, did you contact him with brainwaves?"
Xi Luo shot him a sidelong glance, twisting her waist as she headed upstairs, "If I dare say it, I can back it up. No need for the Chief to worry."
Zong Zhan had one foot on the coffee table, his arm resting on his knee, "Ms. Xi, did I agree to you going out?"
The woman didn't even turn her head as she climbed the stairs, "I didn't agree to you breathing, do you care?"
Zong Zhan: "..."
People always say women are roses with thorns, but Zong Zhan thought that wasn't accurate. At least Xi Luo wasn't a rose with thorns; she was a wild horse with thorns. Not just needing a lesson, but needing training.
...
Forty minutes later, Xi Luo came downstairs wearing a very intellectual and elegant woolen dress and coat, carrying two bottles of valuable sweet white wine.
