"What's wrong?"
Bo Qingshan was nibbling on a half-empty bag of chips, generously offering the opening to Nan Jiaojiao, then hesitated and brought it back, his little face drooping in a woeful pout, "Sister Jiaojiao, it's been a week since we last met, and the first thing you ask about is Third Uncle."
Nan Jiaojiao took a deep breath, "When have I cared about him?"
"Just asking, isn't that allowed?"
"But you have, you didn't even ask if I'm okay."
Nan Jiaojiao narrowed her eyes, looked at him for a while, and then silently took out an acupuncture needle.
Bo Qingshan drew his legs in, hiding into the sofa, instinctively covering the back of his neck; he remembered the last time Nan Jiaojiao poked him there, and he turned mute.
"I was wrong." He gave in immediately.
Nan Jiaojiao stuck a needle in the sole of his foot and asked as if it was an afterthought: "I noticed he's wearing casual clothes. Is he not working today?"
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