Downstairs, all eyes were on them.
Guo Kunnan and Yun Tingting were playing badminton. He was so excited that his face turned a dark red.
Cui Yu, jealous: "Brother Nan's face looks like a century egg."
With ten centimeters of angry hair, Meng Gui played with his Buddha beads and calmly recited, "You are not Kun, how can you know Kun's joy?"
Although they were jealous of their good brother, they did not disrupt.
Instead, Liu Chuandao and his group couldn't stand it. Liu Chuandao, with a shoehorn face, loudly asked, "Yun Tingting, what kind of guys do you like?"
As soon as the words fell, everyone first looked at Liu Chuandao, then, as if by agreement, turned to the alluring Yun Tingting.
Yun Tingting turned around unhurriedly, raised her face, and looked straight at Liu Chuandao upstairs. She giggled, "Your type."
This sentence, like a big pink heart, exploded into countless little hearts, echoing in Liu Chuandao's ears, buzzing non-stop.
