Qin Shu had conversed with Xu Wei for a considerable length of time and she was sure that Fu Tingyu had heard a good portion of their conversation. Yet, she did not know if it was enough to dispel the doubts in his heart.
Biting her lips, she reached out and held his hand. His fingers were long and wiry, and his nails were cut short. His large palm was big enough to engulf her own.
She traced the palm of his hand, gently exploring the nooks and crannies that comprised its whole. His fingers twitched with the feather-light caress dancing over his skin but she could evoke little else by way of a response.
Fu Tingyu stubbornly stared out the window, refusing to look at her. Unperturbed, Qin Shu redoubled her efforts and increased the frequency of her ministrations. A hint of impatience bled into his form. Gripping the offending hand firmly, he stopped her.
Qin Shu edged closer to him and asked, "What was I writing in your palm just now?"
