Feng Fuce's eyes were calm, his tone carrying a hint of warmth.
"I care about you, so naturally I would ask. But I guess it's not over yet."
Zhi'er directly burrowed into the quilt, her cheeks burning hot.
She was really a bit shy, because last time she went back and asked Sister Qingmei and the nannies in the palace.
These are private matters for women, only the husband can know in the future.
Feng Fuce's concern made her feel shy.
Zhi'er mumbled from under the quilt, "It's almost over, don't worry about it."
She asked Feng Fuce to put out the candle, and although the candle was indeed extinguished, he sat at the foot of the bed.
Moreover, he extended his slender hand and held Zhi'er's foot under the quilt.
Zhi'er instinctively flinched, but he did not let go.
Unlike usual, Feng Fuce's hands were usually cold, like fine white jade.
But now, his palm was burning hot.
He effortlessly squeezed Zhi'er's small foot, passing on warmth to her.
