He Xing looked at Fu Han with doting eyes. His pair of cold, star-like eyes seemed to be filled with starlight, contrasting starkly with his gentle, flowing voice, "Xiaohan, what are you thinking about?"
"Nothing... nothing." Fu Han's face turned completely red, wishing she could find a hole to crawl into. She never imagined that one day she would absentmindedly stare at someone and zone out. She touched the corner of her mouth, relieved she hadn't drooled.
He Xing was amused by her little gesture and chuckled. He didn't say anything else, but took the red patent leather high heels from the makeup artist beside him and bent down to help Fu Han put on her shoes.
Although Fu Han was one hundred and seventy centimeters tall, she had a petite size thirty-seven foot, which was also very beautiful. Her feet were as white as mutton fat jade, with faint veins gracefully visible on the surface, adding a mysterious charm to her lovely feet.
