Mo Shiche looked at her but didn't speak, his gaze dropping to her feet—she had run out too hastily earlier, kicking off her slippers, and her fluffy house socks were all twisted and askew.
He stood up, picked up her slippers off the ground, and squatted down in front of her with his tall figure, straightened her socks, and then slipped the slippers onto her feet.
Luo Qiangwei looked down at the man kneeling in front of her, passive and silent, and she suddenly felt immensely panicked. She quickly bent down and grabbed his hand, "I can do it myself, I can put them on..."
Mo Shiche held onto her small foot without letting go. His thin lips moved slightly, and Luo Qiangwei, fearing what he might say next, suddenly pushed him away and stood up, wobbling slightly before steadying herself, "Or else let me cook for you? There's fresh steak at home, frying it will definitely taste good... Ah, and freshly squeezed orange juice, I'll go make it right now..."
