"Get in the car too, I'm just a driver, not a mover." The taxi driver frowned, "Keep an eye on him, and don't let him throw up in my car."
With no choice, Mo Bei also got in the car, closed the door, and gave the address of Jiao Yang's house.
The driver started the car, and she carefully supported Jiao Yang's arm.
The car swayed slightly, and Jiao Yang's body soon leaned over, sliding down into her arms, his head resting on her lap.
He was drunk and completely unaware of the situation, thinking he was in his own bed, his arm wrapped around her waist. He slept deeply. Feeling his arm encircling her waist, Mo Bei lifted her fingers but did not push him away, instead holding his shoulder.
The streetlight's glow streamed in from the window, casting his face into alternating light and darkness.
With his short hair, his features were fully exposed.
