He exhaled comfortably, a white mist rising.
He frowned, boarded the car with his company, and rembered Hannah signing autographs for her fans, "Don’t stay outside for so long next ti."
"That won’t do, the fans waited all night, I can’t let them leave empty-handed."
Hannah placed her almost frozen hands into Arnold’s, and he began to gently warm them up with just the right amount of pressure. His voice was calm but carried an inexplicable trace of complaint, "Then tell them not to go."
She didn’t respond but leaned in to look at the man’s downcast eyes.
The pitch-black eyes were as deep as the night, yet as if soaked in water, when the wind blew, what rippled was a sheet of tenderness.
Hannah withdrew her hands, and her warm yet slightly cool hands covered the man’s cheeks.
She gently massaged them, noticing the faint dark circles under his eyes, "Have you been very tired lately?"
He pulled down her playful hand, held it in his, and continued the earlier motion. With his eyes and brows softened, he exuded warmth, "Jimmy’s back to the Simmons Clan, he wants to take back what’s his."
Despite speaking such words, Arnold didn’t show a hint of anxiety or concern. It was more like he was discussing trivial matters with Hannah, not taking it seriously.
Hannah, however, frowned, her sowhat indignant expression lively and animated, "How shaless of him. If it weren’t for you, the Simmons Clan would have collapsed long ago, and now he actually wants to co back to reap the benefits!"
Even the words of insult sounded tender and soft when they ca from the young girl’s mouth, clearly upset on his behalf.
Arnold chuckled softly, ssing up the hair on her head.
This ti, Hannah didn’t dodge but instead snuggled into the man’s embrace. She looked up at him, blinking her moist and sparkling eyes, "Arnold, let him suffer the cold and ruin, okay? Don’t let him take advantage of you."
With her cheeks flushed and lips a bright red, she looked particularly like a siren whispering sweet nothings, incredibly delicate and boneless, irresistible to any man.
Arnold’s hand rested on her soft earlobe, watching Hannah pull at the collar of his shirt, he smiled faintly, "Who would dare take advantage of except you."
eting Arnold’s gaze, Hannah touched it one last ti before silently withdrawing her hand, bringing up serious matters, "So, are you ’reviving’ now?"
No sooner had she finished this sentence than her solemn expression turned to a smile within a re two seconds, her eyes beca dewy again.
Arnold couldn’t resist, wrapped her waist, and with a little force, he brought her into his embrace.
Hannah rested her head on his shoulder, listening to the man’s clear voice, "Yes, so things I must handle personally."
She didn’t understand much about the business world, so she stopped asking and rely stayed close in his arms, playfully fiddling with his fingers.
The man’s fingers were long and straight like bamboo, slightly curved to reveal pale knuckles, as if they were ticulously carved to perfection.
But upon a closer look, one could see several small wounds.
The wounds, although not large, were all too familiar to Hannah.
They were the kind of wounds that only ford after being crushed with force, even after healing, they would leave scars.
Hannah gently brushed over them, but Arnold’s grasp on that small hand tightened.
A gentle kiss landed on her forehead, and Hannah couldn’t help but yawn, her eyes as clean and pure as if they had been washed with water.
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