"Almost got recognized, aren't you worried at all?"
Without a second thought, Wen Qiao blurted out, "Isn't it because I have you?"
Fu Jinghen was taken aback, not expecting her to trust him so much, but the feeling was strangely pleasant.
He took the hat from Wen Qiao's hand, placed it on her head to cover those bright eyes, and put the mask on her, "Let's go."
Yet Wen Qiao didn't move, standing still.
Fu Jinghen took a step and noticed she hadn't moved. Puzzled, he looked at her, "What's wrong?"
"You haven't taken my hand."
There was that familiar hint of grievance in her voice.
"If you don't walk, I'll go by myself."
Wen Qiao remained still, stubbornly holding up her hand.
Fu Jinghen sighed and reached out, taking her little hand into his, "Wen Qiao, why do you always act so spoiled."
"Because..."
"You like it, huh."
As she spoke, Wen Qiao hooked her little finger, scratching Fu Jinghen's palm.
