The meal was brought into the room.
Bai Zhi'er temporarily tied up her hair with a jade hairpin.
She raised her hand, and the ink-colored sleeve slipped to her wrist, revealing skin as white as snow.
"When are we going to the client's house?"
"We'll go once you've finished your meal. I've already arranged everything."
Feng Fuce walked up behind her and adjusted the position of the jade hairpin.
Bai Zhi'er sat at the table and picked up her chopsticks. After a few bites, Feng Fuce served her a bowl of soup.
His care for her was increasingly meticulous, ingrained in every instinct.
Bai Zhi'er took out the letter written by the client and carefully familiarized herself with the family again.
She bit into a piece of chicken and gradually said with confusion, "Why isn't there any mention of how her husband died?"
Feng Fuce peeled a shrimp and placed it into her bowl.
