Because she did not like to peel shrimp shells, this persistent and peculiar habit remained the same. Usually, she found it too much trouble and just gave up on eating shrimp, but the dishes here were so tempting with their color, aroma, and taste that she could even smell them. When it came to things she liked, she was always sensitive.
Smelling the delicious shrimp under her nose, Qinghe gave Weisheng Yueren a resentful glance, looking pitifully at his constantly moving hands.
Pale, slender, distinctly jointed hands were carefully peeling away the shrimp shells. Qinghe's gaze gradually shifted from the shrimp to the hands peeling the shells. A big man with hands like these—Heaven truly treated him well.
The transparent fingernails were trimmed neat and clean, everything so white. Was he even a man?
