Chu Qiao's face was as fair as a white jade; her skin clear and tender, showing signs of the bitter cold weather outside. Yan Xun used his fingers to warm her up, causing her to fall into a daze. She could not help but blush when he did that, pushing his hands away uneasily. She frowned and said, "What are you doing?"
"Here." Yan Xun showed her his hands, and a grain of shiny white rice was stuck to his fingertip. He laughed and said, "AhChu, you must've been really hungry out there. I think I have to compensate you for your effort."
As Chu Qiao opened her mouth to speak, she suddenly caught a glimpse of Yan Xun's fingers. On his pale hand, there were four long and slender fingers, but part of his pinkie was cut off.
Chu Qiao's gaze suddenly turned cold. As she slowly scooped up a mouthful of rice, she raised her head and said in a deep tone, "If we succeed this time, Wei Jing will never be able to climb into power again."
