Chapter 1285: Call the Police

Whenever there’s any sign of Mo Tingshen being messed up, it absolutely has something to do with Chu Yao.

He went out wearing those playful handcuffs, how would others see her!

“You’ve got guts!”

Chu Yao gritted her teeth, reached into her collar, and hooked a key with her pinky.

She walked a few steps and directly sat on the table, one foot resting on his leg.

Mo Tingshen extended his hand.

Chu Yao inserted the key.

“Click.”

It didn’t turn.

“It’s not the right one?”

Mo Tingshen looked up abruptly.

Chu Yao tried again; it was the right model of key, but it just wouldn’t turn once inserted.

“Did you grab the wrong key?”

“Don’t rush, same model, maybe it’s universal.

Let me try again, it might work.”

She tried with more force, and with a “snap,” the key broke inside the lock.

Completely blocked.

This mishap!

“Chu Yao!”

“I, I, I…

didn’t do it on purpose!”

Chu Yao jumped up; as she ran, she almost collided into him, quickly stopping and dashing into the storage room, rummaging through boxes, hoping for some pliers, only to find a star-shaped blade.

“Brother, will this work?”

“No way!

Do you see any screws on these lousy handcuffs?”

“Of course there are,” she stubbornly argued, and checked deliberately.

There were screws, but they were for securing rivets, not for opening the handcuffs.

After a guilty glance at him, she moved back a bit, “How about calling the police?”

Mo Tingshen…

“I still have some dignity!”

Was he really thinking about that?

Chu Yao could hardly believe it.

Mo Tingshen called Lin Shoo, who soon came over with tools.

He had noticed the thing on President Mo’s hand last night but didn’t dare ask.

Receiving a call in the morning had him excited to check it out.

He hurried over to enjoy the spectacle.

He fiddled around with pliers and hammers, almost injuring Mo Tingshen’s wrist, still unsuccessful.

“President Mo, this seems to be made of special material, can’t unlock it.

Should we call the police?”

Mo Tingshen held his forehead, feeling utterly hopeless.

An hour later, the firefighters came and went.

Lin Shoo made an excuse to leave, took the tools with him, and never returned.

Chu Yao wanted to sneak away too, but couldn’t.

She stood against the wall by the door, back tightly pressed, never standing so upright in her life.

The house seemed to be tidied up by Lin Shoo, anything that might annoy President Mo had vanished.

Chu Yao dared not breathe loudly, watching Mo Tingshen eat at the table, which was filled with her favorite dishes.

But as he ate one chopstick-full after another, nearly all of it was gone.

After intense mental conflict, Chu Yao shamelessly went over, trying to blend in, setting the chair down gently.

Just as she was about to pick up a piece of beef, her chopsticks were blocked by Mo Tingshen’s.

“Did I say you could eat?”

Chu Yao grinned, “Brother, didn’t you make it especially for me?”

“Oh, no.

I’m wearing something on my hand, felt embarrassed to leave, borrowing your kitchen.”

“Then this food…?”

“Ordered as takeout.”

“Oh…”

She’d never resorted to dragging out a conversation for a bite before, and pleaded, “Brother, I’ll just have a few bites, let me taste if it’s good or not.”

Mo Tingshen said nothing, she took it as tacit approval.

Yet whenever she tried to reach for a dish, Mo Tingshen obstructed her every time – by now, her chopsticks hadn’t even touched a bit of oil.