Qi Ming's gentle voice, filled with inquiry, came from nearby, "What's wrong? You suddenly went quiet."
"It's nothing," Wen Shu made an excuse. "I'm just feeling sleepy after lunch."
Qi Ming withdrew his hand and hurriedly said, "Then take a nap, it will still be a while before we reach the Film and Television City."
"Okay."
Wen Shu closed her eyes, feeling the warmth on her hand slowly fade away.
In fact, according to the original storyline, she should be developing some special feelings for Qi Ming right now, but when she was with him, she felt no flutter in her heart.
Not a single bit.
For some reason, Wen Shu's mind suddenly flashed with the image of Fu Jinghen, the man's long fingers peeling shrimp, his posture casual and relaxed, his lips always bearing a faint smile, yet somehow giving off a sense of indifferent remoteness, as if without his permission, no one could possibly enter his domain.
