"…" Qiao Nian didn't expect him to really wait in line for an hour just to buy breakfast in the Imperial Mansion.
In her daze, her left hand was pulled up again.
His broad hand held her hand, his rough fingers pinching her fingertips. It was itchy and dry as if she had been electrocuted.
She looked up and, before she could frown, she heard the man's deep and hoarse voice. "Heh, there's finally some warmth."
Qiao Nian was speechless.
Ye Wangchuan looked at the girl's frustrated face and said, "Do you want to go out for a walk later?"
"Now?"
Qiao Nian's attention was diverted; she had forgotten that someone was still holding her hand.
The weather in Beijing in December was quite cold, especially since the temperatures had dropped over the past two days. The weather had become even colder, so she was unwilling to go out.
"Not really…" She didn't finish her sentence.
