December nights were particularly gloomy and cold. The snow outside the window hadn't melted yet, and carelessness could easily lead to catching a cold, especially since she was in her estrus period when her immunity was low.
She had caught a cold several times during her estrus period before; Mo Yinhe remembered it vividly—the pitiful sight of her sneezing and wiping her nose was still etched in his mind.
So, Mo Yinhe wasn't in a hurry, focusing on drying her hair.
Si Mingjing's scalp tingled. What strategy was this? This man discovered he had held the wrong person, kissed the wrong person, yet he wasn't embarrassed or angry. Instead, he was treating her as a lover would, gently drying her hair?
Even with her usual clear-sightedness and skill in reading people, her mind was now flooded with questions.
Si Mingjing lowered her feather-like eyelashes.
