Han Zhifan's gentle breath grazed Cheng Weiwan's lips. The soft, tickly sensation stifled Cheng Weiwan's breathing as her eyelashes quivered endlessly.
It was like her pressure points had been hit. Apart from clutching onto her sleeve tightly, she stood on the spot, not daring to move an inch.
She still hadn't replied when her face gradually started to flush.
"Wanwan..." Han Zhifan spoke again with a tender murmur, like one between lovers. "...Are you not saying anything because you haven't thought it through?"
After Han Zhifan said this, he waited for a while. Seeing as Cheng Weiwan still didn't reply, he added, "Don't worry, Wanwan. I can wait for you..."
With that, Han Zhifan moved away from Cheng Weiwan's lips and reached out to lovingly stroke her long hair. He turned his head and glanced at the cake beside them. "Let's cut the cake..."
As Han Zhifan's voice fell, Cheng Weiwan lifted her eyes and shot a glance at the man in front of her.
