Zhao Qian gaped at him, his mouth open.
Why did this brat look like he was wiping the peach?
When he finally came to his senses, Chu Qi had already wiped the peach clean, refolded the handkerchief, and stuffed it back into Zhao Qian's pocket.
Zhao Qian, "..."
Chu Qi brought the clean peach to his lips and took a bite.
It was juicy and sweet—a delectable peach indeed.
"Chu Qi, you little brat! How dare you use my handkerchief and stuff it back into my pocket without washing it! You're abominable!" Zhao Qian roared and lashed out at the boy with his fly-whisk.
Having predicted his attack, Chu Qi shielded himself behind Chu Jiu.
Zhao Qian stopped short, fuming at the sight of Chu Qi hiding fearlessly behind Chu Jiu.
He jabbed a trembling finger at him. "Chu Qi, if you're a man, get over here."
"If you're a man, come and get me," Chu Qi drawled and took another bite of his peach.
