"Did you rub against something?"
"Yeah," Fu Jinghen snorted with a light chuckle. "That kid's so clumsy."
Wen Qiao started laughing, "You really don't miss a chance to belittle him, do you? You're almost thirty, why are you still holding grudges like you're some freshly-minted adult?"
"Are you unclear about my relationship with him? He's getting close to the person I like. Should I be praising him?" Fu Jinghen tapped her forehead with his fingertips, as if teasing a kitten, "The only person I don't hold grudges against is you."
Wen Qiao's forehead tingled where he touched, and with a little "ahh," she grabbed his fingers. "It tickles—stop it."
Fu Jinghen didn't pull his hand away, letting her hold on. Wen Qiao didn't realize this; she just felt that Fu Jinghen's hand was cool and comfortable to hold, so she didn't let go.
"Why aren't you happy?" Fu Jinghen repeated his initial question.
"Jiang Yao just texted me saying she's brought me dessert."
