Although she usually had nothing to do with the word "reserved" in front of Fu Jinghen, she still felt a little embarrassed to tell him about her current situation.
Meeting Fu Jinghen's anxious gaze, her lips pouted, and she hummed grievously, "It hurts to death... Rub it for me, and blow on it."
Fu Jinghen instantly felt so distressed, one hand cradling Wen Qiao's face gently, while the palm of his other hand softly covered her forehead, slowing down his movements as he rubbed it for her.
After a long while, the pain in Wen Qiao's chest finally eased up a bit, and her body slowly relaxed.
She gave Fu Jinghen a light slap, not with much force, like a cat scratching, with more of a coquettish intonation, "Can't you drive more steadily? You can't settle down with me in the passenger seat, can you?"
"No, I can." Fu Jinghen took all the blame, blew on Wen Qiao's forehead, and kissed it, "My fault, baby, I'm sorry."
