Song Qiao lowered her head to look at the white porcelain bowl in front of her without looking at him. After a few seconds of silence, she raised her head to look at the man opposite her and revealed a faint smile as she spoke, "I don't have much of an appetite today. You can't force me to eat if I don't want to, right?"
"Is it that you're really not hungry, or is it because I am sitting in front of you that you've lost your appetite?" The man set down his chopsticks, picked up a napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth, and with a calm gaze from the back of his chair, he watched the woman sitting opposite.
The expression on the man's face and his tone were devoid of any fluctuations, as if he was stating something completely mundane.
That sentence wasn't a question, but rather carried a tone of certainty.
