Fu Jinghen shook his head and nuzzled against her shoulder, "I want to eat the food you make."
Wen Qiao's heart melted at his gesture, no longer able to stay angry. She unbuckled her seat belt and gestured for Fu Jinghen to get out of the car, "Okay, then I'll go home and cook for you. Let's switch, I'll drive, and you can snack on the treats you bought me to hold you over."
Fu Jinghen nodded his agreement. Where Wen Qiao couldn't see, a mysterious light flickered in his eyes.
His slightly stiff hair brushed against Wen Qiao's neck, making her shiver involuntarily.
To make his act more convincing, on the way home, Fu Jinghen kept his eyes closed the whole time, with a slight frown on his face, looking genuinely unwell.
Wen Qiao, worried about Fu Jinghen, drove quickly, and soon reached the apartment.
In the elevator, Fu Jinghen clung tightly to Wen Qiao, leaning most of his weight on her, and whispered in her ear how uncomfortable he was.
