After greeting him, she smartly pushed the luggage ahead with Feng Li, giving the two a chance to be alone.
Wen Qiao looked at the man for a mont before casually asking, "Didn’t you say you weren’t coming to pick up?"
Fu Jinghen took off the jacket on his arm, unfolded it, and draped it over Wen Qiao’s shoulders.
"I was afraid that if I didn’t co, soone really would end up crying."
"...."
Inside her left chest, there was another "thump."
With a flicker in her eyes and a petulant tone, Wen Qiao said, "I wasn’t going to cry."
Looking down, Wen Qiao saw the jacket on her and imdiately swept away the awkwardness she had just felt. She raised her head, the tone of disdain clear, "Fu Jinghen, why did you give this jacket? I’m wearing a floral dress today. There are already enough patterns, and this plaid jacket doesn’t match this dress at all. It’s so ugly."
Fu Jinghen: "..."
How was he supposed to know that Wen Qiao was wearing a floral dress today? And even if it was a floral dress, what didn’t match with this black and white plaid jacket?
Weren’t the colors black and white supposed to go with everything?
Why are won so fussy?
Besides, he had made a detour ho from the office to get her a jacket, and instead of a word of praise, he was simply t with complaints.
Fu Jinghen was a bit annoyed, "I didn’t know what dress you were wearing."
Wen Qiao didn’t even notice the change in Fu Jinghen’s mood and kept checking out her outfit, mumbling with her lips moving, "Then why didn’t you ask? Ah, it’s really ugly. I feel like a flashy butterfly right now."
"Then take it off and don’t wear it."
"How can I do that, didn’t you see the coffee stain on my shoulder just now?" Wen Qiao had noticed sothing and looked up, pointing a finger at Fu Jinghen’s furrowed brow, "Hey, why do you frown after just a few words? Are you that sensitive that you can’t even handle a little talk?"
"Now, who is being sensitive?"
"Oh no!" Wen Qiao stomped her foot, "Am I being sensitive? It was clearly you who got the wrong jacket, and yet you’re blaming for being fussy. How can you push all the responsibility onto ?"
What the hell?
Who is shirking responsibility now?
"Wen Qiao," Fu Jinghen called out to her.
Wen Qiao looked up instinctively, "Hmm?"
"If you keep this up, you can go back by yourself."
Looking at Fu Jinghen’s face, which was written all over with "cold indifference," Wen Qiao imdiately let out a whimper, "Wah, so fierce."
Wen Qiao lowered her head, her shoulders heaving up and down, looking utterly pitiful.
Like a little cat abandoned by its owner.
"Brother Jinghen."
A knowledgeable and gentle female voice ca from behind Wen Qiao. She imdiately shed the delicate damsel act, not even needing to look back as her eyes rolled up consciously with a swift motion.
In the short span of two seconds, Fu Jinghen enjoyed a free show of face-changing, and then suddenly let out a low laugh.
Wen Qiao, feeling her face heat up at the sound of his laughter, glared at him and gritted her teeth, "Laughing at what?"
Fu Jinghen’s hand, still resting on her shoulder, lifted a finger and lightly stroked her cheek, saying softly, "Young lady, mind your manners when you’re out. Stop rolling your eyes all the ti."
"Oh," Wen Qiao pulled at the jacket on her shoulder and pouted, "Got it, thanks for the concern. I’ll heed your advice, Mr. Fu."
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