Hearing this, Lin Qiao didn't think much of it and instinctively said, "It's okay. I looked at it when it was brought in. It's much better than the previous bed."
"No, for more than one tael of silver, it should be well-made. This bed is still unstable." Song Tingfan pressed down on the bedhead, secretly shook it a few times, and the wooden bed shook slightly, looking like it was poorly made.
Lin Qiao had nothing to say, "Then let's call them to have a look later."
"Okay."
The annoyance in Song Tingfan's heart dissipated a little. He glanced at the chrysanthemum and gently asked, "Do you like it?"
Suddenly hearing this, Lin Qiao instinctively thought he was asking about the bed, "I like it. It's quite big."
There was a moment of silence in the room, followed by continuous low male laughter. Lin Qiao looked at him puzzled, suddenly realizing after a moment that he was asking about the flower.
"..."
She felt a bit embarrassed for a moment.
