Zhao Pan's heart skipped a beat, and he turned around to see Yun Shifei standing behind him, holding a large dog.
"Uncle, why do you throw stuff at my house every day?" the girl asked seriously.
Uncle?! Zhao Pan almost spat blood. He was only twenty-five—still in his prime! How could he possibly be an uncle already?
But now wasn't the time to be hung up about that. He felt like a thief who had been caught in the act, awkward and flustered. Luckily, he was clever and thought quickly.
He immediately came up with an excuse.
"It's not throwing; someone asked me to deliver it to you."
Yun Shifei looked at the cake on the ground and then raised her eyes to Zhao Pan. "Who sent it to me?"
He couldn't say. Inside, Zhao Pan was agonized; if he could have told her, he would have done so already.
