Zhi'er cradled her little face, seriously blinking her lively eyes as she looked at him.
Feng Fuce thought she was verifying if he was speaking sincerely.
Thus, the young man's voice, though cold, added with unwavering determination—
"I will never lie to you again; you can trust my words."
Zhi'er suddenly reached out and wiped away a bit of leftover sweet soup from the edge of his thin lips.
Her movements were natural, carrying a touch of thoughtfulness and affection.
Feng Fuce was momentarily stunned and subconsciously raised his hand, catching Zhi'er's wrist as she was about to retract it.
Zhi'er lightly blinked her long lashes.
"What's wrong? I saw you hadn't cleaned up properly and just wanted to help."
Feng Fuce lowered his eyes, staring at her pearly white fingertips.
His thin lips slightly parted: "Zhi'er, actually..."
Feng Fuce hadn't finished speaking before Zhi'er withdrew her hand.
She lightly tapped him on the head.
