Xue Yang rolled his eyes and jogged over. He hit the ball with his flat hand, making Meng Yao lose it so that it bounced off, rolling over. To keep Meng Yao from grabbing it again, he instead grabbed his arm, leaning in to look into his eyes. "You're getting on my nerves, shortie. If you wanna talk, then wait until I'm done with my game. Last warning."

He dug his fingers in, arching his eyebrows. "Got it?"