Nan Jiaojiao couldn't quite understand. Even though Bo Yanching spoke slowly, she could understand each word, but when they were all put together, she couldn't make sense of them. If he spoke more, all she could hear next to her ear was a buzzing sound.
It was like listening to Buddhist scriptures.
"What? What does this mean?"
Bo Yanching was momentarily stunned, the words on the tip of his tongue swallowed down.
He spoke so plainly, does his little girl not understand?
"You discarded your self-drawn tile, the tiles were split, now it's a dead draw, hard to draw, and that tile is here with me." Bo Yuman deliberately flipped the tile to show Nan Jiaojiao.
Bo Yanching shot a sharp look over, "What's it got to do with you?"
"Jiaojiao doesn't understand, so I'm teaching her."
Bo Yanching, not in a good mood, said, "Do you need to teach? Just look at your own tiles."
