"Why should she say it?"
It made her seem as if she were desperate for love.
Wen Qiao slowly withdrew her gaze, "What are you babbling about? I must be really idle to want to hear such words, and besides, what's so nice about them?"
Fu Jinghen watched Wen Qiao, whose steps had visibly quickened, seemingly eager to leave, and silently smiled.
They were getting closer to the makeup room and farther from the set.
A few passing crew members greeted Wen Qiao and Fu Jinghen and walked on without giving them extra amorous glances.
The bouquet of roses Fu Jinghen brought was considerably large; he held it effortlessly with one hand, but Wen Qiao had to use both hands.
She couldn't free her hands to open the door and was about to turn around and ask Fu Jinghen to open it when she felt his presence envelop her as he moved closer.
Fu Jinghen held the doorknob with one hand, his arm in front of her, lowered his head, his lips close to her ear, and whispered softly, "I love you."
