Qiaoqiao's desire to touch a bee remained unfulfilled. He squatted there, staring longingly:
"Why can't I?"
The Beekeeper was familiar with Song Sancheng and already knew of Qiaoqiao's situation, and he placated him like one would a child:
"Because right now, you're not familiar with them. If you reach out, the bees will think you are going to hit them, and they'll sting you."
After securing the beehive closed again, he cautioned, "You mustn't touch them carelessly, okay? A bee sting can be very painful for you, but the bee will die once it stings someone. These little creatures are pitiable too."
"Besides," he extended his own hand for everyone to see, which was covered in calluses, with swollen joints: "My skin is thick and tough. I've become used to it."
Qiaoqiao looked at his hands, then held out his own palm—Wu Lan liked cleanliness, and had always kept him neat and tidy since he was little. Now his hand was still fine and fair, with well-defined bones.
