There were also a few things on the sofa, but ever since the two of them had gotten married, Xiao Yibo, who had mysophobia, had been extremely tolerant of Zhou Xiaoyu. He’d never said a single word no matter how much her actions might discomfort him, and it was as though his temper had vanished overnight.
“What are you still standing there for? Hurry up and put away the things!” the middle-aged woman ordered Zhou Xiaoyu while looking at her.
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