Mu Xiaojiu's deep gaze carried a hint of tenderness as he looked at Baili Xia.
"Did it burn you?"
"No, hurry back."
What's going on with Uncle? Does he not feel anything in his hands?
Such a hot bowl, yet it seemed like it didn't bother him.
Mu Xiaojiu held her as they walked back to the sofa.
He placed the bowl of noodles on the coffee table and pulled Baili Xia down to sit.
Instead of eating the noodles right away, he held Baili Xia's hand and examined it.
"Really silly, don't know how to use a tray?"
Baili Xia was slightly taken aback; the look in her eyes, originally filled with a touch of compassion, rolled upwards.
"I don't often cook, how would I know where to find one?"
Mu Xiaojiu did not release her hand; with his right hand, he picked up chopsticks and stirred the bowl of noodles a few times.
Steaming hot air arose; this girl must have been scalded quite a bit just now.
