Qiao Chuchu looked at the lone bag lying on the ground and remembered the madness she and Fu Ziqian shared last night... Qiao Chuchu's pretty face flushed red, she pressed her lips together, lifted the blanket, carefully got out of bed, walked to the bag, bent over to pick it up...
As she bent over, she couldn't help but take a sharp breath.
For her right now, even bending over counted as intense exercise; her back hurt so much she could barely straighten up!
Qiao Chuchu couldn't help but wonder, had Fu Ziqian really never been succeeded by another woman before?
If he truly had no experience in such matters, then where did those high-difficulty positions and almost maddeningly skilled techniques come from?
Could it really be talent?
Self-taught?
No, she didn't believe it.
She refused to believe it.
Fu Ziqian, this man, must have been succeeded by other women before, definitely been succeeded.
Hmph...
