"You look like you're pouting so hard you could hang an oil bottle off your lips. What's got you so unhappy?"
Jiang Ruoqi practically fled downstairs. Meng Shang wasn't home yet. In the living room, only the ambiance light she'd turned on after work to clean Yuanbao's litter box was on.
She pressed her knuckles hard against her temple, the pressure releasing a burst of pain at the point of contact, but it did nothing to ease her exhaustion. She steadied herself against the entrance for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass, then slowly walked to the sofa.
Jiang Ruoqi felt too tired. As summer approached, she was irritable, and on top of that, she hadn't been sleeping well. The physical fatigue was manageable, but she felt even more mentally drained—because of Meng Shang, because of Jiang Yun, and most of all, because of herself.
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