Qiao Cen blinked. "The Qing people are self-cleaning." Let them talk if they like, and they won’t lose a piece of meat.
Zhao Xiaojie was speechless and saw that Joe Cen really didn’t want to take a reason, so he silently moved to the side. There are still nine minutes before class, and Ye Qing hurried into the classroom with her arms around her. Maybe Qiao Cen was sitting in a seat where few people looked up…