Looking at Zhao Yang on the ground whose face was twisted from a second blow, Su Xiaoxiao felt a moment of guilty conscience.
Quickly, she helped up the bicycle, realizing that the meal was definitely out of the question.
Zhao Yang got up from the ground with a twisted expression, and Su Xiaoxiao kindly suggested, "Comrade Zhao, how about I give you a ride home?"
Zhao Yang: "..."
If he had any sense at all, he would definitely not agree to such an absurd suggestion.
Having already suffered such a painful lesson, he could hardly keep himself from going back to smack the lovelorn version of himself.
He twitched his mouth, "No need, I'm fine, I can walk slowly."
As he turned his head, Zhao Yang was almost in tears.
Why did he have to provoke this ancestor? What on earth was he thinking?
When he was leaving work, he was strutting with confidence, but now he could only move like someone half-paralyzed, supporting his waist and dragging a leg.
