Before she could get angry, Fu Jinghen wrapped his arm around her waist, leaned down close to Wen Qiao's ear, and whispered softly, "Haven't I kept myself entirely for you?"
"... "
It seemed like he was being a hoodlum.
Wen Qiao's grip on his suit jacket instantly relaxed, and her cheeks uncontrollably heated up, her words coming out stuttering, "You... me... wha-what, intact or not..."
Fu Jinghen looked at her flushed cheeks and dazed expression, his eyes grew darker, and he gently scraped his finger across her face, "Let's go, we're heading back, it's time to cut the cake."
After he finished speaking, he gave those two women a warning glance and left the place with Wen Qiao.
Fu Jinghen rarely showed people a cold face. Precisely for this reason, his suddenly chilled gaze felt all the more intimidating.
The two women felt a chill ascend from their spines, and their expressions varied, but neither spoke.
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