Wei Anning lowered her head, her fingers twisting the white blanket. "Gong Ting..."
"Have some soup before it gets cold and loses its flavor." As if he knew what she was about to say, he interrupted her, unwilling to let the atmosphere turn awkward again. "I heard black-boned chicken soup is soothing and nourishing. Try some."
Gong Ting brought out a set of bowl and chopsticks, bearing the logo of the soup shop — the very one Leng Youchen had taken her to last time. Seeing the logo, she couldn't help but think of the man who had ruthlessly walked away, her expression involuntarily turning forlorn.
Gong Ting seemed completely unaware, quickly ladling out a bowl of soup. During summer, the heat lasts longer, and steam rose from the surface. He scooped a spoonful and blew on it before bringing it to her lips.
Wei Anning felt a bit awkward, unused to being fed like this. She reached out for the bowl. "Let me do it myself."
