Qiao Mo gazed at his profile, lost in thought.
His cheeks were coldly resolute, still carrying an extre aura of dominance. At this mont, with his brows furrowed and thin lips slightly pursed, his look of intense concentration was inexplicably captivating.
Qiao Mo couldn’t help but beco sowhat entranced...
He was really good-looking, like the most masterful work of art, or a deep and enchanting sea, yet his aura was too cold and profound, inexplicably frightening.
Unexpectedly, this ti Qiao Mo even forgot the pain.
Her cheeks still had traces of tears that hadn’t dried, yet she just foolishly stared at him.
Two minutes later, Fu Nancheng finally finished treating her wound, and the tight frown on his brow slowly relaxed.
After throwing the cotton swab on the coffee table, he was reluctant to release her small foot.
Her foot was delicate, hardly filling his hand.
At this mont, lying in his palm, it was like a fine piece of white jade, crystal clear, his fingertips couldn’t help but gently caress it, as if he was carefully playing with it.
Finally coming back to her senses, Qiao Mo’s cheeks flushed red.
Her toes seed to feel her shyness, curling slightly, trying to hide, yet appearing extra cute.
"Mr. Fu..."
Fu Nancheng looked at her, seeing the two streaks of tear marks still on her little face, his tone softened a bit, "Have you cried enough?"
Qiao Mo pouted, avoiding his gaze, saying nothing.
His mood improved slightly, looking at her tender little mouth, his gaze deepened, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he uncomfortably averted his gaze, unusually agitated, tossing her foot to the side.
Before Qiao Mo could react, she saw him suddenly rise and leave, not understanding what had prompted this sudden change.
As he reached the entrance, he seed to rember sothing and said coldly, "Don’t get it wet."
Subsequently, before Qiao Mo could speak, he had already disappeared.
Qiao Mo sat on the sofa sowhat absent-minded, indeed, so unpredictable...
One mont it was fine, the next he changed his expression.
After he left, Qiao Mo looked at her feet that had been tended to, unable to help but glance again at the now empty hallway.
So... he was here to treat her wound.
Qiao Mo couldn’t resist taking a shower, changing her clothes, and before long, it was dinner ti.
Sitting at the table, looking at the steaming dishes on the dining table, Qiao Mo looked around, finally asking the servant, "Mr. Fu? Isn’t he eating?"
"Mr. Fu is in the study. Miss Qiao can start eating first, the gentleman will co over after he’s done."
"Won’t the food get cold?"
"We will prepare a separate al for Mr. Fu."
Alright.
Qiao Mo nodded, saying no more.
Until seven in the evening, she still hadn’t seen his figure.
After dinner, Qiao Mo sat in the bedroom sowhat bored, watching TV, when her phone suddenly rang.
Qiao Mo looked at the number on the phone and couldn’t help but pause.
Although the number was no longer saved, she rembered it clearly.
Jing Hao... it was Jiang Jinghao.
Qiao Mo instantly straightened up from the sofa, her eyes instantly moistening.
But perhaps too excited, her fingers began to tremble slightly. By the ti the call was disconnected, she hadn’t had ti to answer.
Imdiately, before Qiao Mo could call back, the phone rang again.
Qiao Mo glanced in the direction of the bedroom door, quickly got up to close it, and walked to the balcony.
She intended to answer, but once again hesitated.
After so long, what should she say to him?
And how should she face him?
Moreover, why hadn’t he called until now...
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