Qiao Yuxian ran from the study to her bedroom.
Once she got to the bedroom, she closed the door and stood by it for a while. She remembered Gu Yanjing's look and, unusually, locked the door.
Then after standing still for a bit, she ran to her bed, threw herself onto it, and covered her face while lying down.
After lying there for a while, she rolled over, wrapped herself in the quilt, and curled up like a caterpillar on the bed.
"Ah—Help, Qiao Yuxian, what have you done, what are you doing?"
She covered her face, lay on the bed, and whispered to herself.
Her whole body flushed red, like a cooked crab, from head to toe.
She wanted to hide herself away, unseen by anyone.
After a long time, she finally moved, took out her phone from her pocket, and made a call.
When the call connected, with her face buried in the bed, Qiao Yuxian said muffledly, "Uncle Wen."
"What's with your voice? Are you sick?" The man's voice on the other end sounded concerned.
