Host, You're Targeted

The teacher is an old man with a glass mirror on his neck.

His hair and beard were all white, and his green shirt and plain clothes seemed to be faded by the water.

The teacher came in with a straight ruler and knocked on the wooden table.

Although the old man looked old, his voice was still sonorous and powerful.

"All the attendants can go down. They don't need to be accompanied in class."

With that, he raised the glass mirror on his neck and put it in front of his eyes, and looked at the young masters and ladies in the room.

Tingyuan's legs were numb by his own sitting. He did not stand firm when he stood up on the table.

Tingyuan put a hand on his thigh and slowly stood up. Suddenly he stepped on his own clothes and slipped under his feet. He rushed to the table in front of Yan Huai.

Ting Yang, who was about to turn around and go out, had to stretch out his hand to hold the court yuan.

Tingyuan himself did not expect the story to go this way.

His small face was full of consternation, and his mouth and eyes were round with surprise.

At the moment when Tingyuan's legs hit the corner of the table, the thought in his mind was:

the ink I just polished!

Yan Huai, who has been looking at his clumsy little schoolboy's every move, raised his arm to block his waist when he fell, then bent his arm and tightened it in his own direction.

TingYang saw his son's newly bought little schoolboy rescued by his childe and took him into his arms.

The direction of Tingyuan's fall suddenly changed. He rushed to Yanhuai, his hands were on Yan Huai's shoulder and back, and his small body fell heavily into Yan Huai's arms.

"Ouch Court yuan's chin knocked on Yan Huai's shoulder, and he cried out in pain.

This time, the whole room heard the movement and looked at them.

The old man raised his glass mirror and looked at Yanhuai in surprise.

TingYang stood closest to them and felt pain just when they heard the sound of collision.

TingYang could not help but cover his face and sighed, his hands shaking with his sword.

"It hurts." The court yuan hangs on Yan Huai's body, one hand puts on his body, the other hand rubs own chin.

Knead for a while, court yuan just saw Yan Huai that indifferent expression, also helped him rub the shoulder that just hit.

"Young master, I'll rub it for you, and it won't hurt."

The people around them raised their books to block their faces and looked at them.

"Who is this child?"

"Is the bookboy too bold?"

"Is Yanhuai not angry? When was his temper so good? "

Everyone blocked their mouths, relying on Yanhuai had no time to take care of them, three or two together to whisper.

In the eyes of Tingyuan, Yan Huai is the only one who can't see other people at all.

He was still clumsily rubbing his shoulders for Yan Huai and asked kindly, "does it hurt? Doesn't it hurt? Do I hurt you? Would you like to see the injury? Or shall I bring you some medicine back home? "

Yan Huai or that pair of cold expression.

He pinched Tingyuan's wrist and looked up at him.

"No more." Yan Huai said, "you and TingYang go out."

Yan Huai's tone is really too cold, the look on his face is too indifferent.

Tingyuan was shocked and thought Yanhuai was angry.

He was stupefied for a moment, and then he got up from Yanhuai in a hurry and went out of the room with his numb thigh arched.

TingYang saluted Yan Huai and quickly followed him out.

Yanhuai sat up straight, straightened out his clothes, and looked as if nothing had happened.