"What are you thinking about?"
"I thought of a poem. Can I read it to you?"
Before she could stop her, Chen Weiyang was already holding her forehead.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
"Get out of the car."
[This is a very new and stupid writer. I really don't know what to do. Please give me some advice from you cute people. Ah, hey, I'm so embarrassed here.