Ever since she realized he had a vexed disposition, Lin Qiao could guess about 70 to 80 percent of his moods, though she pretended not to notice, "Okay."
She squatted to wash her hands and glanced at the river. The endless river was not deep, probably reaching her waist.
Suddenly, something moved close, startling her. She turned her head to find a handsome face just inches away, and if she had moved slightly, their lips might have touched.
"Ahem, Tingfan..."
Just as she wanted to ask him what was wrong, she saw him roll up her fallen sleeve, but only to her wrist.
"Over there is the marketplace, bustling at night. Once it gets dark, I'll take you to see it."
Song Tingfan's gaze fell on the woman's lightly blinking eyelashes, his throat moved up and down twice, but knowing they were outside, he restrained the urge to kiss her.
