Fu Jinghen looked up at the sound and just caught Wen Qiao dodging his gaze.
The young girl was angrily biting her straw, her long and dense eyelashes casting a shadow below her eyes.
"Taking it out on the straw as if it were me?"
Wen Qiao let go of the straw and said, "You know and still you ask."
The carton had been filled with air, and suddenly Wen Qiao loosened her mouth, the pressure vanished, and the liquid inside rushed out through the straw, sending a small stream splashing onto Wen Qiao's clothes.
"..."
Wen Qiao felt a chill on her chest, looked down, and immediately frowned.
She agitatedly tugged at her shirt, her eyes intently fixed on the stain as if she wished she could stare it away.
Fu Jinghen pulled out a tissue, walked around to her side, and squatted down to wipe it off for her, "No big deal, if it's dirty, just wash it. What's there to be upset about?"
Wen Qiao stared at the crown of the man's head and said, "Then you wash it."
