"Song Weiyi, this time, it's really my fault." Zhao Mengmeng slid down from the wall, covering her face as tears streamed down.
"What are you talking about?" Song Weiyi gritted her teeth and dragged Zhao Mengmeng from the corridor and approached the staircase.
The wind was strong at night, striking the face like a knife, cold and painful.
Song Weiyi was wearing a coat, but noticed that Zhao Mengmeng was only wearing light homewear.
"Mengmeng, why did you run out wearing so little? Are you crazy?"
Without explanation, she took off her coat and draped it over Zhao Mengmeng.
Then, she pulled Zhao Mengmeng back inside.
Though the restroom smelled bad, it was still not as cold as the stairwell.
"Let's talk inside."
Zhao Mengmeng came to her senses, looked at the knee-length coat, raised her hand to take it off to return it to Song Weiyi.
"I'm not cold, you wear it."
