Given Fu Jinghen's actions, Wen Qiao treated him as merely a driver—he left as soon as they arrived at the station, without uttering any unnecessary words.
Her hand touched the seatbelt's buckle, and just as she pressed it, a "click" sounded from beside her.
The next second, her hand was covered by a warm presence.
Wen Qiao turned her head, "Wha—"
The words she hadn't managed to utter melted away with the man's burning breath and the moist heat from his lips.
It seemed as though the air inside the car was sucked clean at that moment.
Fu Jinghen's lips pressed against Wen Qiao's, not lingering too long, just lightly sucking before pulling away.
He looked up, his eyes dark and swirling, drawing Wen Qiao in as if into a vortex.
Fu Jinghen's hand was still on Wen Qiao's cheek, gently caressing as he whispered softly, "You don't want others to know about us, so I won't take you inside. When you finish, message me, I'll come to pick you up."
Wen Qiao nodded vaguely.
