"Little thing, what are you thinking!" Nicholas Croft pinched Beatrice Hargrave's jaw and, through gritted teeth, said while exhaling smoke, "It's already exhausting taking care of one imp like you. Do you want to drain me completely dry?"
"Uncle, have you gotten old?" Beatrice threw her phone and jumped up, grabbing the shoulders of Nicholas's shirt and feigning alarm, "Quick, eat more supplements. I'm still so young, I don't want to be a widow already!"
"Little thing, you're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Hmm?" Nicholas leaned in again, pinching Beatrice's chin, looking like he desperately wanted to devour her.
Beatrice puckered her lips in grievance, "Uncle, I'm not, I'm genuinely concerned. After all, you're so much older than me, by a whole zodiac cycle. What if you can't anymore someday, what am I supposed to do..."
Nicholas...
