Fu Nancheng looked at the wrapping paper on the ground: "The gift's been opened."
Qiao Mo was afraid he would ask, yet he did: "Uh... yeah, it's opened."
"Eat the fruit."
Luckily for Qiao Mo, he didn't pursue the matter further and handed her the cut fruit.
"Why is your face so red?" He walked to the bedside and reached out to feel her forehead.
Qiao Mo closed the book and placed it beside the bed, avoiding his large hand: "It's just a bit warm..."
"Warm?"
"Uh, maybe the air conditioning is set too high." Qiao Mo replied earnestly, her small face was flushed like it had been brushed with fine rouge.
Fu Nancheng glanced at her, noticed the light sheen on her forehead, and turned to adjust the air conditioning down by two degrees.
Seeing that he wasn't suspicious, Qiao Mo breathed a sigh of relief.
But the next second, her chin was suddenly caught by him.
