"Do you have a fever? Why is your face so red?" Sheng Yize felt her forehead.
An Xiaxia bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "I don't!"
While she kicked pebbles on the bank, Sheng Yize stood quietly beside her, skillfully playing with a pen in his left hand.
The black pen turned and spun between his slender fingers, and was almost dizzying to look at.
An Xiaxia suddenly recalled that he had once been… right-handed.
He had only switched to his left hand after that injury.
"How is… your hand now?" An Xiaxia asked uneasily.
Sheng Yize darted her a look. "It's fine."
"Have you considered going back into showbiz?" An Xiaxia blinked.
With his good looks and talents, he would be successful as a singer or an actor.
Sheng Yize shook his head. "No, I haven't. I have no more interest in that circle."
