Tears continually fell from Wen Qiao's eyes, reddening the corners until they glistened with sorrow.
Warm tears dropped onto the back of Fu Jinghen's hand, burning him so much that he stopped what he was doing.
For the first time, the man who strategized in the business world appeared utterly helpless. He held Wen Qiao's face, wiping her tears, unsure of what to do.
"What's wrong, baby?" Fu Jinghen's voice was filled with panic and urgency, "Is it a stomachache, or what? You—"
Before he could finish speaking, the young girl suddenly burrowed into his embrace, her slender arms tightly wrapped around his waist as if fearful he might leave.
Fu Jinghen's arms slowly lowered to embrace Wen Qiao's shoulders, one hand stroking her hair and the other soothingly caressing her back, "What's really wrong? Why are you crying like this? Have you been wronged?"
Only when she saw him and felt his body heat did Wen Qiao gradually come back from that dream.
