The lingering tingling sensation on his neck seed to remind him of the scene where the woman’s breath had just touched it.
Fu Jinghen’s brows puckered slightly as he raised his hand to touch it, his fingertips, slightly cool, covered the tingling spot.
-
"I ordered two ginger cokes; I’ve just delivered one to Princess Lin, and this one is for you."
Song Qian stood at the door, handing over the plastic bag he was carrying.
"Ah..." Wen Qiao was montarily stunned, "You didn’t have to go through all the trouble, I’ve already—"
"It’s no trouble, just on the way," Song Qian interrupted her. "You’re one of the main pillars of our crew, if you get sick,"
"It will delay the filming progress," Wen Qiao smoothly continued his sentence.
Sotis, compared to Director Zhang and Deputy Director Song, Wen Qiao felt that Song Qian was more like a director who poured his heart and soul into the crew, always worried that soone might cause a delay in filming. Despite being only in his twenties, he seed to have endless worries every day.
Since he had already bought it, and it was a thoughtful gesture, she might as well drink another bowl.
"Since Deputy Director Song is so considerate, I’ll accept it." Wen Qiao took it, joking with a smile, "Your future girlfriend will surely be very lucky."
Song Qian scratched his head, embarrassed: "You should drink it quickly; I’m heading back now."
The incident with Luo Bin had just co to an end, and it would be problematic if anything else happened. Song Qian was tactful, and Wen Qiao understood this as well. She nodded, "Bye, see you tomorrow, Deputy Director Song."
"See you tomorrow."
When Fu Jinghen ca out of the bathroom, he happened to hear the woman’s crisp voice saying "see you tomorrow," followed by a male voice at the door, returning the sa farewell.
After Wen Qiao closed the door and turned around, she was startled to see a man standing behind her, her heart leaping to her throat. Only after realizing that Fu Jinghen was the only man in the room did her breathing settle.
"Why don’t you make any noise when you walk?" Wen Qiao complained.
Having been startled by him twice in one night, Wen Qiao felt she was becoming jumpy.
Fu Jinghen glanced at Wen Qiao, who was patting her chest to calm herself, then looked past her towards the door. "Who was just here?"
"Song Qian." Wen Qiao placed the ginger coke she was holding onto the table, opened the lid, and steam wafted out. She suddenly let out a small yelp.
Fu Jinghen’s brow twitched, he walked over, concern barely noticeable in his tone, "What’s wrong?"
He thought Wen Qiao had scalded herself, but she just blinked dumbly a few tis, the urgency in her voice was a hundredfold more than his: "When did you get here just now? Did he see you? Ahh, when soone knocks on the door, don’t you know to hide? If soone saw, what could’ I do? I’ve just escaped the shadow of Luo Bin..."
Before him was the anxious figure of the little woman, gesturing wildly, chattering away; as Fu Jinghen heard her last sentence, his voice had already sunk, he looked at her expressionlessly, "Are you comparing to Luo Bin?"
"Ah..." Wen Qiao realized she might have said the wrong thing, covered her mouth, and shook her head, "No, I didn’t an that."
Fu Jinghen pressed, "Am I not fit to be seen?"
"No, no," Wen Qiao shook her head vigorously like a rattle-drum: "Isn’t our relationship supposed to be kept secret? If soone saw, it’d be hard to explain."
Fu Jinghen gave her a deep look, said nothing, then turned his gaze to the bowl on the table with steam rising from the dark contents and asked, "What’s this?"
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