Zhan Qipei placed his phone on the nightstand, picked up the soup, and handed it over to Qiao Jing.
"The investigation will continue, but for now, drink some soup. I had someone make it especially for you—it's nutritious."
Seeing Zhan Qipei holding it up like that, Qiao Jing stretched out her hand to take the bowl, knowing holding it must be tiring, but the man did not seem to have any intention of handing it over to her.
Her hand paused, and she looked at Zhan Qipei.
Zhan Qipei read the confusion in her eyes. He scooped up a spoonful of the hot soup, blew on it a few times, and brought it to Qiao Jing's lips.
"I'll feed you."
Qiao Jing frowned slightly. Why did he insist on feeding her?
"I'm not injured."
Zhan Qipei stubbornly maintained his posture, his thin lips parting slightly.
"I know, but you're very tired now and need to rest. Just sit."
Qiao Jing sighed helplessly, rubbing her brow.
"I've recovered quite a bit. I'm not so tired that I can't even hold a bowl."
