Mr. Dior

CHAPTER 52: Sacrifice Sweetheart (1)

"Who are you?" Jiao Qi looked at him blankly.

"Remember the most beautiful syllable name in the world," the man laughed lowly, and kissed the teenager's earlobe gently, "Dior Nicholas Zhang."

"..." Why is there a middle name this time? Knocking on the brain, Annie stated that she did not know the true meaning of the surname, and it was likely to be casual. However, since there are "the king" and "food", what should be a strange script.

After work, the plantain employees are not surprised at the show ’s love between the two bosses, just do n’t know what it means to hold an umbrella. "Click", the staff did not dare to take pictures, but some passers-by could not help raising their mobile phones. The flash struck Mr. Dior's eyes, which made him unhappy.

"Look for death!" Zhang Chen narrowed his eyes, and a stupid human dared to shake him with light.

Jiao Qi stopped Zhang Dazhen, who was about to rush to him, raised his hand to signal the security guard to deal with it, and dragged the foreigner Mr. Nicholas into the car.

This time, Zhang Chendi did not choose a driver's seat, but instead elegantly stowed his large black umbrella with a straight handle and sat in the co-pilot.

"Don't take the liberty to ask, are you a nobleman?" Jiao Xi couldn't rush to start the vehicle, and asked him leisurely.

"Of course, baby, don't you know me?" Zhang Chenzheng was a little surprised. As the prince of the blood race and the ruler of the dark night, there were even ignorant teenagers who didn't know his first name. He reached out and touched Jiao Qi's soft hair, and told him his origins.

Annie inquiries in time: blood, western vampire settings. Fear of the sun and survive by consuming human blood.

vampire……

This Jiao Qi knew that Annie didn't need to keep checking. Last night I was still playing vampire games, what did you say? Could there be a realistic trigger mechanism for script selection?

His Royal Highness felt the boy's soft hair, and smiled very charmingly. This poor little thing was used by his father as a sacrifice to pray to the devil and dedicated to the blood prince as a blood slave. Fortunately, he is a gentle master and will not torture him too much.

"From today, you will be responsible for feeding me. Once I do n’t have enough, I may eat you. Now, take me home."

"Let's go eat first." The Blood Prince probably wouldn't cook for him, so he ate outside and went back.

The car was parked in front of a Chinese restaurant, and Jiao Qi frowned at Zhang Dazhen, who was also going to take an umbrella two steps: "Can't you just take an umbrella?"

"Of course," Mr. Dior put away his umbrella and walked in with the hand of the little slave. "As a noble prince, I don't actually fear the sun. But the sun will burn my pale skin and reduce my beauty."

Jiao Qi looked at the hand that was two shades darker than himself, and wondered where the man's face claimed to be pale and beautiful.

Looking for a quiet place to sit, Zhang Chenzhang picked up the menu and ordered: "Mao Xuewang, Duck Blood Vermicelli Soup, Blood Sausage Claypot Rice."

"..." Jiao Qi was speechless, and asked for a plate of garlic shrimp.

"Okay, what's wrong with it?" The waiter asked dutifully.

"Don't garlic, don't put garlic in any dishes." Zhang Dayu said firmly.

"..." Garlic shrimps don't want garlic, but still eat wool? Jiao Qi resisted the urge to get angry. "Forget it, get another steamed sea bass."