"Not dancing? That’s not acceptable. You’ve been learning for over ten years, not letting you dance is such an injustice. People will say I’m unreasonable."
Henry Sullivan looked at her, feeling quite accomplished.
"It’s not that you’re not letting dance, it’s just that I don’t want to anymore."
"Well, since you insist on not wanting to dance anymore, there’s nothing I can do.
But I think there are still things you need to confess."
Ivy Miller gritted her teeth, so petty, the pettiest person in the world.
"If I can’t think of anything right now, then I can only go through a few more rounds tonight."
"Ah, right," he had just finished speaking, and Ivy imdiately added, "Uncle, you’re right. I have one more thing to confess; I won’t wear miniskirts anymore."
Henry Sullivan nodded, "You could be so good, but you insist on being irritating," he said while tapping her nose, "Considering how smart you are, this will be the last ti tonight."
Ivy was speechless; she had already confessed, and he still wanted to see this through?
Is this man made of iron?
After being thoroughly tossed around by him, she lay on the bed like a limp noodle, unable to move.
Fortunately, Henry Sullivan was still energetic; he boiled so water and helped her wash up.
Ivy felt she was truly exhausted. She lay on her side, watching Henry Sullivan lying next to her, freshly washed, acting as if nothing happened, and frowned.
Henry Sullivan grinned: "What’s the matter?"
Ivy pouted: "Nothing."
"If you have sothing to say, just say it. As a military officer’s child, why are you so hesitant with your words?"
"Uncle, why do you exercise every day?"
"To protect the country."
Ivy scoffed internally, liar, it’s clearly just to torture her.
Seeing him looking unflustered, she felt annoyed. Why was it that only she ended up exhausted?
If she had known he would punish her like this tonight, she should’ve given him sothing to tire him out first.
Feeling displeased, she turned around and slept with her back to him.
Henry Sullivan looked at her and smirked lightly, this little girl must be furious, right?
His smile grew wider, as if he sohow felt energetically young again.
This little girl really did have so magical power.
But there’s no denying, her dance tonight was quite good.
If she hadn’t danced in front of so many people, but just before him, maybe he wouldn’t have been so angry.
He closed his eyes, having worked up a sweat, he could now sleep soundly.
It was Sunday, there were no loud training drills outside, so she slept until she naturally woke up.
She raised her wrist to check the ti; it was already ten o’clock.
She got up lazily from the bed, but just standing up, she felt a soreness in her legs.
She exclaid in surprise, oh my, the novels were right about the kind of soreness that reaches the bones, it really does exist!
Henry Sullivan wasn’t there, but he left a note on the table.
She picked it up and glanced at it: "I had to go to the office to handle so things.
Breakfast is on the table; if it’s cold, microwave it for a bit.
Call after breakfast, I’ll take you to the city to buy so clothes."
Feeling displeased, she pouted, put down the note and wobbled her way to the living room.
Oh my, she was really upset, almost furious inside.
With this leg feeling like it’s no longer usable, how is she supposed to go shopping?
This wretched Henry Sullivan, she needed to get revenge.
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