Still in shock, Song Fengwan returned to the living room. When she recalled the warm touch on her back and the scorching breath that fell on her ear, her face heated up again.
Why do I always lose my composure around him?
"Wanwan."
"Cousin." Song Fengwan took a deep breath and adjusted her breathing.
Qiao Xiyan came downstairs. He was wearing black trousers and a white shirt, with two buttons undone at the collar. He had phoenix eyes and thin lips, and his black hair was messy, exuding a wild and uninhibited aura. Yet his eyes were sharp, making others not dare to approach him.
His gaze landed on Song Fengwan while his fingers were busy tying his cufflinks. His fingers were long and well-proportioned.
"Mr. Qiao." Uncle Nian greeted him with a smile. "Breakfast will take some time. You can walk around in the courtyard with Miss Song."
