In just two short minutes, Wen Qiao felt as if a long ti had passed.
After Fu Jinghen said "Done," she suddenly felt a wave of relief in her heart.
"Tying up hair is so fussy."
"It’s my first ti doing a girl’s hair. I’m not very skilled," Fu Jinghen’s apologetic voice sounded from behind her, "With more practice, I should improve."
Wen Qiao pretended not to understand his implication. "Oh, you can practice on your own hair then."
Fu Jinghen reached out and tugged her ponytail, "You ingrate."
Wen Qiao was stunned, as if she couldn’t believe that Fu Jinghen would engage in such a childish act as pulling a girl’s hair.
She poured the soup she had prepared in advance into the pot, covered it, turned around, and looked at Fu Jinghen with a blank expression: "How old are you, still pulling my hair? Isn’t it childish?"
Fu Jinghen rembered sothing and squinted his eyes in displeasure: "Qi Ming has pulled your hair before, why can’t I?"
"When did he pull my hair?"
Fu Jinghen accurately stated the date: "It was the day before the Mid-Autumn Festival during your live program, at 5 minutes and 27 seconds, when you got out of the car, you complained to Director Li in front of the cara."
"..."
Not only did he state the precise date, but even the exact ti. It seed he was really eaten up with jealousy.
Wen Qiao opened her mouth, suddenly feeling the urge to laugh.
"Why, you’re even jealous of your own nephew?"
Fu Jinghen stated forcefully, "You liked him before."
The subtext being that his jealousy was perfectly reasonable.
Wen Qiao scratched her forehead in speechlessness.
Her speechlessness, in Fu Jinghen’s eyes, seed like an inability to refute. His gaze turned dim: "You’re thinking about him."
?
Wen Qiao looked up incredulously at him: "Who’s thinking about him? Spreading rumors can have legal consequences, you know."
Fu Jinghen’s mood sank further: "Then why were you silent just now?"
"I was wondering how to explain it to you."
Fu Jinghen asked in confusion: "Explain what?"
"About liking Qi Ming before, it’s not like what you think."
"You admit it, you liked him."
Wen Qiao’s eyes widened: "Did you ignore the word ’before’ I used?"
Fu Jinghen was still entangled in his low spirits, "You liked him."
"..."
What is this, a Qiong Yao-style lodramatic denial, "I’m not listening, I’m not listening"?
Wen Qiao took a deep breath, reminding herself to stay calm.
"I’ll explain this to you just once, are you listening?"
Fu Jinghen looked at her weakly: "Go ahead."
"..."
"About my having liked..." Wen Qiao paused, then changed her phrasing: "About what happened between and Qi Ming before, it’s not like what you think."
As Wen Qiao recalled the original novel’s description of why her original self had liked Qi Ming, she explained to Fu Jinghen: "After Wen Feng and my mom got divorced, he brought that woman and their child ho. She deliberately caused trouble, and during an argunt with her, I accidentally broke one of Wen Feng’s favorite vases. In the end, she blad it all on , and I got slapped and ran back to school. That day also happened to be Mid-Autumn Festival, a day when families co together."
"You also know that I went to the sa school as Qi Ming. He happened to see in a sorry state. He might have felt sorry for , or maybe he just did it in passing, but he comforted with a few words."
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