While feeling touched, there was also an indescribable emotion interwoven in Wen Qiao's heart, jostling messily within.
The man beside her was scalding the cup with hot water, and Wen Qiao quietly observed his hands—clearly defined joints, slender fingers, quite aesthetically pleasing.
In the next second, that hand slowly moved toward her, and then a cup of water was placed in front of her.
After completing a series of actions, Fu Jinghen went to scald a cup for himself.
Wen Qiao opened her mouth, wanting to say something, yet didn't know where to start.
A while later, Wen Qiao turned to her side, and just as she was about to say something, someone knocked on the private room's door.
Fu Jinghen said, "Come in," and then the door opened, with Xiao Xiang Pavilion's waitress at the forefront.
The waitress stood to the side, leaning against the door, making way for the people behind her.
Shortly after, a man and a woman walked in.
"Fu, sorry we're late."
