She even magnified her own grievances, magnified his mistakes, making him solely bear the cost of their broken engagement.
Wen Qiao felt even more choked up inside. She gently caressed the rose petals, her head hung very low.
Fu Jinghen caught a glimpse of Wen Qiao, who was about to bury her head in the bouquet, and, finding it somewhat amusing, reached out to hold her chin and pull her out of the bouquet, "Do you like this bunch of flowers so much? What will you do if I give you even prettier ones in the future?"
Wen Qiao rubbed against his palm like a little cat, tilted her head and kissed his fingers, then looked up at Fu Jinghen, "Fu Jinghen, have I been especially bad to you?"
Fu Jinghen was still immersed in her sudden display of dependency and hadn't snapped out of it. Hearing her question, he furrowed his brows and asked in confusion, "Why do you suddenly ask that?"
"It's nothing, I just suddenly felt like asking."
