You have to understand, dresses like this only show up at certain banquets.
She's a ghost—where's she supposed to get that kind of high-end social life from?
"I want it."
Vivian said it with the willfulness of a child, and then shot a fierce glare at this meddlesome Mary.
"What a plastic bestie relationship. Just now it was 'sis this, sis that', and now one dress and you're ready to turn on each other."
Ning Fan shook his head helplessly, but still didn't forget to knock some sense into Vivian—and then actually knocked her, hard.
Under Mary's surprised gaze, a crisp, loud finger-flick to the forehead rang out.
Mary, supposedly the one involved, didn't mind at all; instead she clung to Ning Fan's arm and cooed, "Honey, I waant it."
As she spoke, the two big "rabbits" on her chest weren't behaving either, swaying back and forth.
Ning Fan, who'd been full of pent‑up anger, suddenly froze, staring like he'd seen a ghost. "Where did you learn this stuff?"
