"Shen Xingyue, what are you doing?" Early in the morning, the man who ran away shouted,

squinted open his eyes, so tired, like the feeling of being pressed overnight, instantly remembered someone's masterpiece last night, jumped up on the sofa,

"Fu Zhiyu, it's you, my carpet is ruined."

The man rubbing his head on the sofa, looking at me sitting on the sofa, seems to think of something, "Then how did you run under my body to sleep?"

, speaking of this, his anger rose, and he stood up and pointed to Fu Zhiyu's nose. "You still have to talk about it. It's all you, hum, being pressed by a...