The lingering tingling sensation on his neck seemed to remind him of the scene where the woman's breath had just touched it.
Fu Jinghen's brows puckered slightly as he raised his hand to touch it, his fingertips, slightly cool, covered the tingling spot.
-
"I ordered two ginger cokes; I've just delivered one to Princess Lin, and this one is for you."
Song Qian stood at the door, handing over the plastic bag he was carrying.
"Ah..." Wen Qiao was momentarily stunned, "You didn't have to go through all the trouble, I've already—"
"It's no trouble, just on the way," Song Qian interrupted her. "You're one of the main pillars of our crew, if you get sick,"
"It will delay the filming progress," Wen Qiao smoothly continued his sentence.
