"Why are you nervous?"
"..." How could he possibly say it?
Jing Po lowered his head without speaking.
Chuzheng's fingertips played with a strand of his long hair, moving it behind him, revealing the beautiful chin in front.
Chuzheng leaned forward a little: "Practice a few more times, and you won't be nervous."
A strange yet familiar aura enveloped him, making the young man even more nervous, his body trembling.
"...Practice...??" He stuttered, barely squeezing out two words, seemingly not understanding their meaning.
"Yes." There's nothing that practice can't solve!
Jing Po's eyes showed a hint of surprise, his fingers fiddling with his sleeves: "How... how to practice?"
"I'll teach you."
"But... um..."
The young man's breath became short, his face gradually turning red, his eyes wide and round, the corners of his eyes slightly moist.
Chuzheng softly reminded: "Breathe."
The young man seemed to come to his senses, pushed Chuzheng away, and took deep breaths.
