The next morning, Wen Qiao was woken up by an itch on her face.
She blinked her eyes open, and Fu Jinghen’s cheerful face ca into view.
"Are you sick or sothing?" Wen Qiao smacked her hand onto his face, pushing him back: "Get lost, seeing you is annoying."
The little girl had quite the strength when she got angry. Fu Jinghen didn’t et her force with force; instead, he kissed her palm.
Wen Qiao imdiately withdrew her hand, frowned at Fu Jinghen, and wiped her hand on his clothes with disdain: "What are you doing, your slobber’s all over my hand."
"You disdain that much?"
"Yeah." Wen Qiao said deliberately, "I’m sick of you."
"Is that so?" Fu Jinghen laughed and said, "Then how do you explain that little girl who wouldn’t let go of in the bathroom yesterday—"
With a crisp "smack," Wen Qiao once again covered Fu Jinghen’s mouth.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Wen Qiao shook off her sleepy deanor, her eyes wide like saucers: "How dare you twist the truth? Clearly, you were holding onto , it’s all your fault!"
The longer Wen Qiao spent with Fu Jinghen, the more she understood one truth: n are inherently flawed. No matter how dignified they seem fully dressed, once the clothes co off, they’re all the sa beastly nature.
When she first t him, Fu Jinghen was that gentleman who would fix her collar when she approached him. But now, he was nothing like the aloof, otherworldly prince depicted in the original story.
Yesterday, Fu Jinghen coaxed her into saying many embarrassing things, and even though she t his requests, it not only didn’t earn her his leniency but instead further spurred his interest, tornting her even more.
Wen Qiao, who could down several rows of vodka without getting drunk, ca out of the bathroom last night utterly drained, like a dead fish.
Wen Qiao’s pajamas were loose, and as she raised her hand, the sleeve slipped down, revealing her lotus-white arm, marked by several striking red imprints on the inside.
Fu Jinghen glanced at it, recalling the scene from the bathroom last night where Wen Qiao’s cheeks were flushed, clinging to his shoulders while calling him her husband, and his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.
Noticing the change in his gaze, Wen Qiao followed his line of sight, quickly pulling up her sleeve. The hand covering Fu Jinghen’s lips also moved upwards, covering his eyes, blocking his wolf-like gaze.
Her soft little hand rubbed all over Fu Jinghen’s face, paying no heed to his image.
Fu Jinghen’s one eye was covered by Wen Qiao’s hand, and the other half-open, looking ridiculously funny, which made Wen Qiao burst into laughter.
Fu Jinghen pulled her hand down and kissed it again by his lips: "Alright, it’s ti for you to get up. Don’t you have an ad to shoot today?"
"Oh right, I almost forgot." Wen Qiao, taking advantage of the situation, wrapped her arm around Fu Jinghen’s neck imperiously: "Carry to wash up."
"As you command, my little princess."
Fu Jinghen carried her to the bathroom, skillfully placed a towel on the sink, and set Wen Qiao on it, squeezed toothpaste, and brought it to her lips: "Open up."
"Ah—"
Brushing soone else’s teeth is quite a tricky thing, but Fu Jinghen served her with remarkable ease.
Wen Qiao’s hand wandered over Fu Jinghen’s body, grabbing at his buttons one mont and pinching his ears the next, having a grand old ti.
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