Fu Jinghen watched as Wen Qiao wrapped herself in a quilt like a caterpillar in a cocoon, chuckled softly, and walked over to lie beside her.
"Baby, could you share a bit of the quilt with me?" Fu Jinghen asked. "It's a bit chilly."
There was silence for two seconds before Wen Qiao threw a corner of the quilt over him.
Seizing the opportunity, Fu Jinghen's hand snuck in through the gap, pulling Wen Qiao into his embrace.
Holding her, he cooed, "Alright, baby, it's my fault. I didn't control myself. It won't happen again."
It wasn't a big deal, Wen Qiao was just a bit shy and still unsure about how to face Fu Jinghen. Now, hearing him apologize, she suddenly felt a twinge of guilt.
She murmured softly, "Why are you apologizing? I'm not angry, I'm just..."
"I know, baby is just shy."
Wen Qiao paused, then turned around and flung herself into his arms.
"Then just now—"
Wen Qiao cut herself off mid-sentence and clamped her mouth shut.
