"…But I don't mind helping," Fang Lin murmured, though she obediently settled on the counter seat, folding her hands on her lap like a chastised child.
Yueyao pressed another orange against the juicer, her slender wrists flexing with practiced ease.
The liquid flowed smoothly into the jug, releasing waves of freshness that softened the greasy tang of oil hanging in the kitchen.
"You don't mind," Yueyao said calmly, her gaze fixed on the task before her, "but I do mind. Lin Lin, you are not meant to do work like this. A person's hands show their life. Yours should remain soft."
Her words were quiet, almost tender, yet they carried an undertone Fang Lin couldn't quite place. Something both protective… and a little bit possessive.
The younger woman tilted her head, studying Yueyao's profile as the window light traced her calm features. "Yueyao… you also shouldn't be in the kitchen since we have workers here!" Fang Lin felt speechless and at the same time lost.
