Fu Jinghen picked up the comb and started brushing Wen Qiao's hair.
Wen Qiao's hair was sleek and shiny, without a hint of frizz; it was incredibly smooth. Besides holding Wen Qiao's hand, Fu Jinghen's favorite pastime was playing with her hair.
The call had barely ended for a minute when Fu Qiang sent Wen Qiao a red packet.
Wen Qiao silently counted to five before opening the red packet. Seeing the string of zeros on the screen, she let out a silly giggle. After laughing twice, she suddenly remembered something and turned to look at Fu Jinghen.
Fu Jinghen was brushing her hair and did not expect her to turn her head suddenly. He was still holding her hair, so when she moved, her hair got tugged.
"Ouch—"
Wen Qiao held her head, her face scrunched up as she looked at the man behind her. "That hurts."
"I'm sorry, baby." Fu Jinghen pressed her hand and gently rubbed the spot where it hurt. "I didn't expect you to turn around suddenly."
