Fu Jinghen, mindful of her high heels, bent down cooperatively, making sure she didn't have to tug too hard, "So, can I ask what kind of punishment the organization would give me if I told the truth?"
"Oh, if it's the truth, then the punishment is that you're not allowed in bed tonight."
Wen Qiao looked like she was being perfectly reasonable.
"..."
Is this the reduced punishment?
Fu Jinghen's brow furrowed slightly, "But I don't remember."
"You don't remember? Oh, that's easy," Wen Qiao nodded, her index finger lazily drawing circles on his chest, "then spend tonight outside thinking about it, and come back inside when you remember."
Fu Jinghen finally understood what it meant to shoot oneself in the foot.
He shouldn't have teased Wen Qiao.
"I really don't remember." Fu Jinghen kissed Wen Qiao's lips in a mollifying manner, "After all these years, if I still remembered, wouldn't my baby be even more upset?"
