Tong Yan was completely frozen.
Did she hear that wrong? She must have heard that wrong.
Haha, she was having hallucinations again.
Bo Yimo's eyes still bore the remnants of a fading anger, deep and serene, yet turbulent beneath the calm surface. His cool voice carried a hint of danger, "Baby, seven days? Ten days? Or half a month?"
Could she refuse to answer?
Inside, Tong Yan's sorrow flowed like a river in reverse, and two lines of silent tears streamed down her face. Half a month—it would be the death of her. Would she still be alive tomorrow?
"A month." Bo Yimo's sexy thin lips gently uttered three words, as if speaking casually, yet laced with commanding authority, and an unshakeable certainty.
Darn, she hadn't even spoken, don't make decisions for her!
Tong Yan was nestled in his arms, catching the fresh and pleasant scent of him in her nose, but at this moment, there was no romantic thought in her mind, only figuring out how to resolve this matter.
