There was an inexplicable sense of relief as if she had finally reached this moment.
"Why are you so nervous?"
"Who's nervous!" Wen Qiao retorted defiantly, "I've seen countless men; what's there to be nervous about sharing a bed with a man for sleep?"
"Oh?" Fu Jinghen's voice, laced with full-blown danger, grew lower, "Countless men?"
Wen Qiao's body, which had just relaxed, tensed up again.
Damn it, she had misspoken in a fit of pique.
Fu Jinghen's hand gently pinched her waist, "Tell me, how have you seen countless men."
Wen Qiao was especially ticklish, and at his pinch, her body immediately arched forward, laughing sweetly, "Ah, don't pinch my waist, I'm ticklish."
Fu Jinghen pulled her back again, his hand casually resting on her waist, "Don't change the subject, out with it."
