For the last time, her finger stretched towards his lips, and snapped crisply.
As her fingertip brushed Bo Yan's lips, he gently held it. He didn't linger too much, just lightly touched it, then raised his eyes to look at her above.
With that glance, Xia Siyu knew exactly what this guy was thinking.
Oh come on, if you want some loving applause, just say it directly. We're an old couple, what's with all this talk about "life's big events" and "parental rehearse"? It's more fun to continue with their little ancient theater, the stories of the little wife and the young master.
Indeed, Bo Yan dropped all pretenses and laid it out: "Dear wife, it's a dark and windy night, and the dew is heavy; better to rest."
Xia Siyu, thanks to her recent studies, had a breakthrough in cultural matters, but she pretended to be clueless: "What if I don't want to rest?"
