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“Oh? You know me that well?” Ye Wuming’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Why don’t I seem to recall our hearts being interlinked? Don’t go projecting your crotch-filled thoughts onto me.”
Ye Jiuyou sneered. “You’re so righteous, so noble, yet it’s as if your mouth’s been sewn shut. You can’t even say one honest word to your so-called partner.”
Ye Wuming said coolly, “That’s because he hasn’t earned the right to be called a partner.”
“Oh, so your lips aren’t sewn shut; they’re clamped shut with the toughest metal in the world,” said Ye Jiuyou coldly. “He’s not fit to be your partner, huh? Well, is he fit to kiss you then?”
And with that, she leaned down and pressed her lips to Zhao Changhe’s.
Ye Wuming: “You, what are you doing? Wait, wait—”
Fusion certainly had its benefits, but this was no ordinary fusion. It was the kind that brushed against self-destruction. And she had forgotten one critical point: Once she handed over control to Ye Jiuyou, her own position was even more miserable than Piaomiao’s had been.
Back then, Piaomiao could at least seize control of her body at will. Cui Yuanyang could not forcefully...
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