"You?"
The girl rolled her eyes at her, "Sis, as long as you can convince your dad to collaborate on my mom's new project, playing is just a matter of saying the word."
"Really?"
"For real, it's just a thing. If you use it, remember to wash it clean and return it. I still have to maintain it; the novelty hasn't worn off yet."
Song Jin had heard these words many times. He gritted his back teeth hard, with half of his face red and swollen with heat. He pressed his tongue tip against it, let out a hiss of pain, then splashed some cold water on his face. Maybe it was the cold that stimulated him, but he splashed several more handfuls on his face, with increasingly rough and impatient movements. In the end, the water felt like a whip, slapping his face hard.
He leaned on the washbasin, breathing heavily in and out, his head down for a long time. When he finally looked up again, his eyes were bloodshot in the mirror.
