It must have been because of what he said last night, "Aren't I keeping myself intact?" that influenced her to have such a dream, a dream completely at odds with her righteousness.
Right.
It must be so.
It had nothing to do with her thoughts; it was purely because of Fu Jinghen's words. It was his fault.
Her phone rang. Wen Qiao stopped her washing machine-like tossing and turning, groped for the phone, and after seeing the caller ID, the ice-cold device suddenly turned into a hot potato. She fumbled and the phone fell smack onto her face.
"Ow!"
A sour pain shot through her nose, and tears welled up in her eyes.
She took a moment to recover, picked up the phone and blinked. The call was already connected.
"Hello..."
Her voice was noticeably tearful.
"What's the matter?" Fu Jinghen's voice tightened, "Why are you crying?"
Wen Qiao responded with a pitiful tone, "I just got hit in the face with my phone..."
