Chen Zui closed the script, his tone somewhat impatient: "It's too noisy here, let's talk in my lounge."

"Oh." Nanzhi obediently stood up, holding the script, and followed his steps.

Nan Zhi arrived at Chen Zui's lounge. She glanced at it subconsciously and found that the lounge was decorated in a cold and aloof manner, just like him, making him difficult to approach.

"sit."

Chen glanced at the sofa.

Nanzhi quickly sat down.

Chen boiled water and started making tea.

His tea-making movements were fluid and graceful, especially his hands, which were well-defined, long, and fair, with faint blue veins visible. Every gesture he made while brewing tea was noble and abstinent, just like a young master from a prominent family.

Nan Zhi was so captivated by the sight that she didn't even realize when Chen Zui brought her tea.

Chen Zui looked at the other person staring blankly at him, their beautiful eyes filled with nothing but his image, and his thin lips curled up imperceptibly.

"Nanzhi."

He called again.

Nanzhi then came to her senses and quickly reached out to take it.

But she was in such a hurry that she didn't notice and knocked over the teacup.

A large amount of hot water was poured onto her hands, and they quickly turned red.

She hissed softly, covered her hands, and apologized while gently blowing on them.

I just wanted to blow on it and be done with it, but I didn't expect Chen Zui to grab me and take me to the sink.

Chen Zui turned on the tap, pulled her hand under the tap, and gently rinsed the scalded area.

I don't know if he forgot, but even though she could have rushed over by herself, he kept holding her hand.