"Use this." Xin Yibin looked at Si Ruoran, whose hands were covered in oil, and handed over the spoon in his hand with a bit of helplessness, "You can soak the fried dough sticks until they're soft and use this. With your hands so greasy, don't you feel uncomfortable?"
"It is a bit uncomfortable." Si Ruoran stuck her tongue out at him, using the spoon to completely submerge the fried dough sticks in the soy milk, stirring them from time to time, her manner of eating breakfast extraordinarily earnest.
Watching her, Xin Yibin suddenly felt a flutter in his heart.
Indescribable, inexplicable.
Seemingly reminded of last night's events, Xin Yibin brought it up: "If things really can't work out between you and her, I will apply to the class teacher to get you separated into different dormitories."
Si Ruoran, focused on her breakfast, was somewhat astonished to hear this.
