Qiao Mo ignored him and started eating the cake.
But perhaps due to the unease in her heart, her hands holding the knife and fork shook uncontrollably.
Fu Nancheng frowned slightly, glanced at her, and his gaze deepened.
Qiao Mo just felt an unfathomable gaze fall on her face, her heart almost leaping into her throat.
Would he find out?
At this moment, a large hand fell on hers, gently wrapping her small hand.
Qiao Mo, who was already on edge, was startled by the sudden warmth, and instinctively threw the fork from her hand.
Fu Nancheng squinted slightly, his gaze focused on her small face, and after a few seconds, he slowly asked, "Cold?"
A hint of panic flashed in Qiao Mo's eyes, and she gently shook her head: "No, maybe I've been sewing too much the past few days, my hands aren't working well."
He stared at her for a long while, and a few seconds later, spoke disapprovingly: "I'll throw all those things of yours away later."
"No way!" Qiao Mo immediately protested.
