Wei Ting's gaze followed her arm down to her hand.
Ji Qingwu picked up a plump longan from the bedspread. "Have some longans," she said. "They'll help replenish your energy."
The dried fruits were laid out in neat, orderly rows on the crimson brocade quilt.
"The bath is ready," Wei Ting said. "You should go."
Ji Qingwu pretended not to hear, picking up another longan and slowly peeling its shell.
Wei Ting raised an eyebrow. "Surely you don't intend to eat everything here before going to bed, my lady?"
Ji Qingwu's eyes brightened. 'That's a good idea,' she thought, nodding. "The more the better. I'm frail."
Wei Ting reached out, and she immediately shrank back, but he only held out his open palm.
"Peel one for me," he said with a smile.
"Don't you have your own hands?" Ji Qingwu retorted, displeased.
Still, she handed him the peeled longan.
'On their wedding night, just chatting peacefully is better than the alternative.'
Wei Ting, however, clearly had other ideas.
