Fu Jinghen nodded, "Yes."
Wen Qiao glanced at him, "Why are you so sure?"
"Intuition, I guess."
The determination in the young man's eyes as he looked at the girl felt very familiar to Fu Jinghen.
After considering for a while, Wen Qiao also nodded confidently, "I think so too."
"Why?" asked Fu Jinghen, interested.
Wen Qiao pointed at the area below his eyes, "Because the way that young man looks at the girl reminds me of how you look at me—your eyes hold everything that you are."
Fu Jinghen then realized what that familiar feeling was.
His everything was her, for when he looked at her, his eyes indeed contained his all.
Fu Jinghen grabbed Wen Qiao's hand and smiled at her, "Let's go home, Mrs. Fu."
Wen Qiao stood up from her chair, following him. She looked at Fu Jinghen, who, just like the young man, held her hand with one of his and with the other, the things they had just bought, and she started to smile too.
"Alright, Mr. Fu, take me home."
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