"You also gave me roses, didn't you? Red roses at that."
Wen Qiao pointed to the bright red roses dripping with charm on the long table in the middle of the makeup room.
Fu Jinghen fell silent, released Wen Qiao's hand, and turned his head to lean closer to the chair, "Then you go."
?
Was he throwing a temper tantrum?
Wen Qiao glanced at him in surprise and continued walking toward the door without stopping.
Hearing the sound of Wen Qiao moving gradually towards the door, Fu Jinghen's eyes drooped.
After a short while, Wen Qiao returned, carrying the bouquet of pink roses Huo Mutian had given her.
Fu Jinghen lifted his eyelids and saw her place the bouquet of pink roses on the table, right next to the red roses he had brought.
The red was vivid, the pink tender, and the size of the bouquets made their status clear at a glance.
Fu Jinghen felt a bit better inside.
He scoffed disdainfully.
