C85

Qiao Anxia's beautiful face was as cold as ice, filled with deep anger.

Once, when he said that he liked her design, she had spent three days and three nights tidying up the clothes for him.

In the end, she happily gave it to him, but he didn't like it. She casually tossed it away as if it were useless trash, not even sparing it a glance.

Mo Tingyue ignored her anger