The joy in her heart was extinguished just like that.
Her lightly pursed lips carried an almost imperceptible bitterness, and her slightly lowered eyes did not lift.
Her gaze remained fixed on Wen Jin's distinctly jointed fingers.
The bitterness at the corner of her lips quickly burrowed into her heart, like a virus, swiftly and intricately entwining itself and occupying her entire heart.
"I'm not some socialite or lady, I don't need those expensive gowns."
Jing Xiaocha's voice sounded even to herself, a bit strange.
"Who says only socialites and ladies wear gowns?"
Wen Jin refuted her words, turned his head to look at her, and slightly furrowed his handsome brows.
He felt Jing Xiaocha was somewhat awkward; she was fine just moments ago, suddenly now she seemed to be angry.
