Wen Qiao held the saliva in her mouth and gurgled twice before turning and spitting it out.
After spitting, she turned back around, having never even opened her eyes throughout.
"..."
Fu Jinghen watched her and was afraid that he might even need to wash her face for her.
Fu Jinghen found a disposable towel, supported Wen Qiao's chin, and wiped her face with warm water.
Wen Qiao's hands clutched at the sides of Fu Jinghen's clothes, leaning her upper body forward, inching closer to him.
The person she longed for was right in front of her, so close that their breaths intertwined.
Seeing that she was so dependent on him, Fu Jinghen's eyes gradually deepened as he wiped her face.
His gaze fell upon Wen Qiao's lips, and his tongue lightly touched the roof of his mouth.
The person being taken care of suddenly uttered a "hmph," and Fu Jinghen felt a pat on his hand, followed by Wen Qiao's complaint, "How long are you going to wipe the same spot?"
