Bi Xia gently smiled, the unbearable disgust in her heart instantly dissipating. She tilted her head to look at Qin Zhan, who was approaching with a hairdryer, and felt warmth fill her heart.
The sound of the hairdryer filled the room, as a large hand smoothed out the short hair of the young boy bit by bit. In the extremely quiet room, although the hairdryer had a somewhat noisy sound, the warm wind it blew out had the capacity to make one sleepy.
Seeing the boy half-squinting his starry eyes, which were usually bright and clear but now slightly dazed, his little head nodding gently, was endearingly cute.
Seeing that the boy was about to fall to one side, Qin Zhan hurriedly pulled him into his arms, letting the boy lean against his chest while he gently tended his hair. The sensation of the large hand threading through the dark locks, warm and smooth, was something the youth greatly enjoyed.
