Young Master Gu's heart skipped a beat.
Under the dim light, Rong Heng stared at Gu Lan's fair and swollen ankle, his eyes becoming even more profound.
Thin ankle, thin waist, not tall, not even leg hair, Gu Lan indeed seemed like a woman.
"Pff—"
A strange muffled sound came from somewhere.
Rong Heng frowned and looked at Gu Lan, "What are you doing?"
Gu Lan coughed, looking calm, "Farting, can't Brother Hang tell? Should I do it again for you?"
Rong Heng: ...
He withdrew his earlier guess.
This person not only looked ready to fart again but seemed to want to catch it for him to smell.
Gu Lan said, "It's too cold here, can't a person fart? Or does Brother Hang never fart?"
"Shut up," Rong Heng said through gritted teeth, in a low voice.
Gu Lan: "Let me prepare—hiss!"
Rong Heng had already exerted force on his hand during her "preparation," and with a "crack" sound, Gu Lan's dislocated joint was back in place.
