When I woke up, I became the white moonlight of the tyrant

Chapter 170 I Sprained My Foot
Fu Chengyuan lowered his head, looked at Geng Qianqian pulling his hand, with a slightly cold expression, "Release."

His tone was too harsh, and Geng Qianqian couldn't help letting go of his hand.

Seeing that Fu Chengyuan was still about to leave, she finally gave up her pretended gentleness, and chased after her with her bag, "Fu Chengyuan! Do you really ignore Grandpa? He misses you every day!"

Fu Chengyuan strode out, his hand had already closed the car door, without the slightest hint of nostalgia.

Geng Qianqian was wearing high heels, so naturally she couldn't catch up with him. Seeing that he was about to get into the car, Geng Qianqian's eyes flashed, she gritted her teeth, and fell backwards.

"boom!"

Hearing the sound, Fu Chengyuan turned around impatiently.

Geng Qianqian fell to the ground in embarrassment, clutching his ankles, his eyes were red, looking pitiful.

She raised her head and looked at Fu Chengyuan.

Fu Chengyuan was startled.

"Fu Chengyuan, I sprained my ankle." Geng Qianqian shouted.

Fu Chengyuan stood where he was and watched her quietly for a while.

Geng Qianqian felt uneasy, and his face became more and more pitiful, "I'm really twisted..."

In order to make Fu Chengyuan stay, she really worked hard just now, and now her ankle hurts like a needle prick.

Fu Chengyuan took out his mobile phone and dialed a number.

"Hello?" Zhao Yan's voice was on the other end of the phone.

Fu Chengyuan looked at Geng Qianqian's pale face for a moment, and his eyes were playful, "Your lady sprained her foot at the entrance of Yunruo Cafe."

After saying this sentence, he immediately hung up the phone, got into the car, and drove away without hesitation.

Geng Qianqian looked at the shadow of the car going away, the expression on his face gradually faded.

Just as Zhao Yan came over, he saw Geng Qianqian sitting on the steps with a worried expression on his face, "Miss, why are you so careless? Come on, I'll take you to the hospital."

As he spoke, he immediately squatted down in front of Geng Qianqian, wanting to carry her on his back.

Geng Qianqian looked at the broad shoulders in front of him, shook his head, and said in a calm voice, "I'm fine."

Zhao Yan was startled, turned his head, and saw the coldness on Geng Qianqian's face.

"Miss, Master Fu is unwilling to go back with us?" Zhao Yan asked.

Geng Qianqian shook his head, touched his ankle, remembered the coldness on that person's face, and suddenly chuckled, "As expected of the old man's blood."

"If he agreed without hesitation, I'm afraid the old man and I would not rush to find him."

Zhao Yan didn't understand, so he could only ask, "What should we do in the future?"

The smile on Geng Qianqian's face became more gentle, "Doesn't he care about that little girlfriend?"

"Then start with her!"

*
Editorial room for historical research.

Shi Zhi is the editor of historiographical research, and his brain will explode from reading manuscripts every day.

An old friend sent him an e-mail yesterday, saying that it was a paper written by a student, and asked him to read it.

Shi Zhi didn't take it seriously, historical research received a large number of submissions every day, which one of the contributors was not a famous existence?
What kind of things can a college student who has not graduated yet write?
But for the sake of his old friend, Shi Zhi opened the email anyway.

This look has changed from being casual at first to becoming more and more serious.He couldn't help sitting up straight, and took out his computer at any time to check some information and evidence in the paper.

An hour later, all the editors of Historical Research were in the office.

Historical papers are placed on the projector.

"Gentlemen, I hope this paper can be published in the next issue of our historical research."

"But... this is a work of a college student. Do you know how many questions we will face when it is published?" Some editors questioned hesitantly.

Shi Zhi's face was calm, "Knowledge does not distinguish between age and grade. As long as someone can write something real that we value, there must be a place for him in historical research!"

(End of this chapter)