The phone by Wen Qiao's ear began to feel somewhat hot; she took the phone and glanced at it, only to realize that the call had been going on for nearly an hour. She hadn't even washed up, and she had to get up early tomorrow.
"Hey, I can't talk anymore; I'm going to take a shower," Wen Qiao said, preparing to hang up the phone.
"Wen Qiao."
Fu Jinghen suddenly called out her name on the phone, and she pressed the phone back to her ear: "What is it?"
"You—never mind, it's nothing. Go to sleep early."
Before Wen Qiao could respond, Fu Jinghen had already hung up the call.
The night was thick, and the vehicles on the street gradually became scarce. Fu Jinghen stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, opposite which was the advertising poster for ES makeup that Wen Qiao had shot two days ago, just put up that afternoon.
