He recognized her at a glance; that was Nan Jiaojiao.
Only she liked to wear pink, an oversized down jacket that did not show off her figure at all.
Bo Yanching froze for a moment, zooming in on the medicine bag next to her, then enlarging it again.
Suddenly, he lost his appetite.
He called Yaen Chi, and the phone was picked up after just two rings, as if it had been held in hand the whole time.
"Have something to tell me, Brother Yan?"
Bo Yanching said coldly, "Cut the crap, what's wrong with her?"
"Who?" Yaen Chi deliberately asked, barely holding back his laughter.
Bo Yanching's face turned so dark it looked like you could wring water out of it, "Yaen Chi!"
"Asking about Jiaojiao, right?" Yaen Chi instantly cowered, "Nothing much, she caught a cold, and it's quite serious. Her voice has changed, very hoarse, and her nose is stuffed up—she can barely speak, her face is so red—"
