The next morning, Scarlett was looking at Andrew, watching him curled up, sleeping soundly while occasionally letting out a few silly chuckles.
"Hehehe..."
"..."
Scarlett twitched the corner of her mouth speechlessly. What was this Little Thing dreaming about to make him laugh so happily?
Then she glanced at the time. It was already seven-thirty, and Andrew hadn't woken up yet, so she called out twice, "Wake up, it's already seven-thirty. We still have the morning run."
"Stop bothering me. Let me sleep a little longer. Buy your own breakfast; don't even think about asking me to make it."
Andrew rolled over and continued sleeping.
Scarlett knew Andrew thought she was Catherine again, and she couldn't help but laugh in annoyance. 'What a little brat! Who at eighteen years old still sleeps in every day? When I was eighteen, I woke up at six to go for a morning run.'
"Who asked you to make breakfast? Get up."
