Wen Qiao followed his words with praise, "No problem, no problem, very good."
"You eat a bit more and rest for a while, I've chopped everything up and just need to cook it, it won't take long," Shi Koufan persuaded. "You've also been worn out by the show all afternoon."
Wen Qiao waved her hand, "No need, let's hurry up and finish so everyone can eat. Otherwise, I won't feel at ease pretending to be busy—just leave that half a tomato there."
Seeing that he couldn't persuade her, Shi Koufan had to nod, "Okay, then I'll continue to assist you."
"Alright, thanks."
Wen Qiao saw Shi Koufan put down his half of the tomato and said, "It's alright, you finish it first, no rush."
After speaking, Wen Qiao lowered her head to continue marinating the chicken in the bowl.
The strands of hair by her cheek fell, obscuring her face, and from Shi Koufan's perspective, only the dainty tip of her nose was visible.
