Never mind.
Letting him touch her hands would neither harm nor take anything away.
Whenever they were together, Fu Jinghen particularly liked to play with her hands, pinching her fingertips, pinching her palms. Wen Qiao wasn't sure if Fu Jinghen naturally had a fetish for hands or if he had some inexplicable obsession with hers.
Over time, this habit seemed to have been passed on to her. When Fu Jinghen pinched her hand, she would also pinch his.
For instance, right now, after walking for a while, Wen Qiao remembered the pack of tissues Fu Jinghen had pulled out earlier, pinched his fingertips, and, when he looked over, asked, "Why do you still carry tissues with you? Not many guys are that attentive."
"They're kept for you, in case you need them." Fu Jinghen pinched back her fingers, his grip slightly firmer than usual, "Not many guys? You know many, do you?"
