Lin Yixun was momentarily dazed, then came back to her senses and said with a forced smile, "Mr. Feng, how can I trouble you with such a trivial thing as drying my hair? I'll do it myself."
"It's no trouble."
"But my hair is very dirty. Your esteemed status shouldn't be sullied with such things."
"I just washed my hands, it's fine." The man replied expressionlessly.
Yixun was a little speechless. Was this man emotionally unintelligent? Could he not tell that she didn't want him drying her hair?
Of course, the man understood her thoughts but insisted nonetheless. Yixun knew Feng Chengyu's character—he wouldn't give up until he got what he wanted.
If she stubbornly refused to let him have his way, this man might just throw her off the building.
So, Yixun laughed weakly, "Then I'll trouble you, Mr. Feng."
