If Su Fanxing were to wake up at this moment, she would have found an explanation for her previous speculations about Lin Tianyu.
However, there were no ifs.
The long fingers lifted a strand of hair that had fallen across Su Fanxing's face, carrying with it her scent which hit Lin Tianyu, his face stiffened.
The fingers also paused.
Su Fanxing moaned softly, as if coquettishly rubbing against Lin Tianyu's fingertips before turning her head to continue sleeping.
Lin Tianyu nearly held his breath in check.
He was slightly bent over; the finger that was rubbed felt as if it had been shocked by electricity, and the frozen scene came to life.
But Su Fanxing did not wake up. The clothes that had been draped over her shoulder slipped down because of her movements.
Lin Tianyu bent down to pick it up and redraped it over her, not daring to linger any longer; he quickly left.
The next morning.
The foster father woke up, saw the unfamiliar ceiling, and looked around with his eyes.
