Song Qiao looked at Lu Jingchen in front of her, still acting as he pleased, and was so angry she almost ground her silver teeth to bits.
Lu Jingchen's reaction gave Song Qiao a feeling that no matter what she said or did, the man in front of her wouldn't knit his eyebrows or show the slightest displeasure.
Immediately, Song Qiao's temper flared up as well. She turned her head to one side and said sulkily, "I'm not eating, get out, I don't want to see you now..."
Lu Jingchen paused with the ceramic spoon in his hand, his dark and deep eyes fixed on the side of the woman's face, his heart already far from calm.
Even though there was no change in his facial expression, if you looked down at his hand holding the ceramic bowl, you'd see he was exerting so much force that the veins on the back of his hand were distinctly popping out, as if a little more pressure would shatter the bowl.
For a moment, the atmosphere in the hospital room became strangely silent, and no one spoke.
