Luo Xiaoqian pressed the switch, but the hairdryer didn’t respond. Puzzled, she turned her face, only to rember that she hadn’t plugged it in, and hurriedly put down the hairdryer to deal with the electrical socket.
"So stupid!"
With a low curse, Leng Zimo reached over. His long arm stretched out, beating her to it as he plugged in the cord.
"Try bathing with only one hand!"
She quietly rebutted him, reaching for the hairdryer, only to co up empty-handed again.
"Sit down!"
Leng Zimo held the hairdryer in one hand and gestured with his chin toward the wooden chair one could sit on when changing clothes in the bathroom.
"I can do it myself..."
"Sit down!" impatience colored his tone.
Clutching her bathrobe tighter, Luo Xiaoqian sat down on the wooden chair with her back to him.
Leng Zimo took a large towel, squeezed the water from her long hair, and only then did he turn on the hairdryer to help her blow-dry her hair.
The hairdryer humd, his palms cradling her long hair. His fingertips inadvertently brushed through her hair, eliciting a damnable tingling sensation. Luo Xiaoqian’s heartbeat, inexplicably, began to quicken.
She faced the bathroom mirror, able to see him in the reflection using just the corner of her eye.
At that mont, Leng Zimo’s lips were slightly pursed—a beautiful, straight line. He seed so focused, as if he weren’t blow-drying hair but playing a beloved piano piece...
When this man wasn’t angry, he really was impeccably handso.
Watching his profile, she instinctively rembered how he looked playing the piano. Among her collection was a selected music video of his—from her girlhood days, she always loved to sit on the couch watching him play, then imagining that perhaps one day, she would sing on stage with him.
Back then, how could she have imagined that one day, she and he would end up like this?!
"Get dressed, co downstairs!"
Leng Zimo’s voice pulled her back to reality.
Luo Xiaoqian hurriedly got up and followed him out of the bathroom. He walked over to the wardrobe, rifling through the clothes hanging inside, his frown deepening.
Jeans and T-shirts—was she really going to wear these to the press conference with him?!
Picking out two pieces of her clothing at random, he tossed them on the bed, turned around, and reached for her robe tie. Noticing the bra he held in his hand, Luo Xiaoqian’s cheeks blazed, realizing he intended to help her change.
"I can, I can do it myself!"
Catching a glimpse of her face, now red enough to bleed, Leng Zimo didn’t insist.
"Co down as soon as you’re dressed!"
With those instructions, he strode out the door.
Luo Xiaoqian listened to his footsteps retreating before quickly putting on the undershirt he had picked for her, then the bra, but she encountered the sa problem.
As it turned out, putting on a bra one-handed was even more trouble than taking it off.
She bit her lip, deciding to give up, and simply donned her trousers, T-shirt, socks, and after a quick grooming, rushed downstairs.
Approaching the kitchen, she saw him lifting a clay pot from the fire and placing it on the table, with bowls and chopsticks already prepared. On the side cabinet lay the large bag he had brought earlier.
So, he had called her to eat, not to cook?!
Watching as he carefully ladled pork liver soup from the clay pot, Luo Xiaoqian felt the man before her was unrecognizable.
Was this really the sa man who had bitten her, grasped her, proclaiming his ownership—Leng Zimo?
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