The video playing on his phone was the three-second clip Wen Qiao had just sent him.
Fu Jinghen hit the pause button in time, studying the man's figure that flashed across the screen.
He glanced at the well-defined hand resting on the table, and then at his own.
Making a comparison.
"I have a nine o'clock flight next Monday. Who's going to take me to the airport?" Fu Qiang asked while peeling grapes, addressing the two people strewn across the couch, one lying down and the other sitting.
Qi Ming didn't take his eyes off his phone for a moment, "Let little uncle go, I can't wake up, and besides, there are still four days until next Monday, what's the rush?"
"Can't I give a heads-up?" Fu Qiang turned to look at Fu Jinghen, "Take me to the airport next Monday."
...
After waiting a while without getting a response, Fu Qiang kicked Fu Jinghen's foot with her toes, "Fu Jinghen."
"Hm?" Fu Jinghen lifted his eyelids, "What is it?"
