The smoke from the extinguished match entered his throat, making him cough violently.
Wen Qiao: "....."
So this is karma for the wicked.
She leaned leisurely against the table and watched Qi Ming, who was bent over coughing, "You know, my mom always taught me not to laugh at others, and now, I'm passing that advice to you."
Qi Ming glared at her while continuing to cough.
After a while, when he finally caught his breath, he straightened up reluctantly and repeated, "You just can't strike a match."
Wen Qiao shot back, "What does my ability to strike a match have to do with you?"
To prevent Qi Ming from talking nonsense, Wen Qiao quickly added, "Light another one quickly, unless you actually want to spend the night here?"
Qi Ming pursed his lips and touched the matchbox.
?
He looked down into the matchbox.
It was completely empty, nothing left.
"......"
"What are you dawdling for, hurry up."
