Mo Nanjue frowned and lifted his leg to block him, "Get lost and sit to the side. Just seeing that outfit makes me sick."
"Damn it, wasn't it you who told me to wear it?!" Chen An was so angry he could spit blood. He sat down to the side with a dark face, picked up a newspaper, glanced at it, then threw it aside, "Then what should I do tonight?"
"Get her to talk," Mo Nanjue picked up his cup, glanced at it, and tossed it aside. He crossed his hands behind his head, "Anyway, there's only a candle in the room tonight, no need to change your face; with dim light, Fu Qingshuang won't be able to see clearly, and then all you need to do is to pretend to be Luo Xiao."
Chen An's face turned colder, "How do I pretend?"
"You already look pretty similar. Later, go back and get a voice changer, make your voice sound like his," Mo Nanjue squinted his handsome eyes slightly, "Just say you've got a terminal illness."
Chen An's mouth twitched, "What illness?"
