Wen Qiao waved her hand without any sense of attachment and lowered her head to look at the screen again, lifting the pause.
The scene on the screen was frozen on the moment when the male lead stood up from the chair, with the female lead sitting opposite him.
"Wen Qiao."
Hearing Fu Jinghen call her name, Wen Qiao's hand holding the earphones hovered in mid-air as she lifted her head again, "What's the matter—"
The last word was lost between their touching lips.
Fu Jinghen's fingers pinched her chin, he bent down, and lightly sucked on her lips.
But after a brief moment, he pulled away.
Standing up straight, his eyes twinkled with a soft, shallow smile, "There was a bit of cream on your mouth."
Wen Qiao subconsciously raised her hand to touch the corner of her mouth, and by the time she realized what had happened, Fu Jinghen had already left the office.
!
This old rascal!
Wen Qiao clenched her fist and swung it fiercely at the air.
