"I won't do that, don't worry, Dad," Zhang Zeya said sweetly.
Li Qianfan gave Zhang Zeya a peck on her tender lips, smiling warmly, he said, "Call me Dad a few more times."
"Dad, Dad, Dad…"
"Good girl!"
The sound of slaps echoed again, and the Rolls-Royce began to shake once more.
It was nearly ten in the evening when Zhang Zeya finally got out of Li Qianfan's car.
Ahead was Guangming District, and Li Qianfan didn't need to drive her any further. After giving Li Qianfan a peck on the cheek, Zhang Zeya picked up her bag and headed towards the gate of the district.
However, Zhang Zeya walked in a very peculiar manner, almost as if her legs were unable to come together.
Watching Zhang Zeya's strange gait, Li Qianfan felt a great sense of satisfaction and a strong sense of conquest.
Li Qianfan then rolled up the window, pulled out some tissues, and quickly wiped himself, his legs, and the leather seats.
