After greeting him, she smartly pushed the luggage ahead with Feng Li, giving the two a chance to be alone.
Wen Qiao looked at the man for a moment before casually asking, "Didn't you say you weren't coming to pick me up?"
Fu Jinghen took off the jacket on his arm, unfolded it, and draped it over Wen Qiao's shoulders.
"I was afraid that if I didn't come, someone really would end up crying."
"...."
Inside her left chest, there was another "thump."
With a flicker in her eyes and a petulant tone, Wen Qiao said, "I wasn't going to cry."
Looking down, Wen Qiao saw the jacket on her and immediately swept away the awkwardness she had just felt. She raised her head, the tone of disdain clear, "Fu Jinghen, why did you give me this jacket? I'm wearing a floral dress today. There are already enough patterns, and this plaid jacket doesn't match this dress at all. It's so ugly."
Fu Jinghen: "..."
