“I can tell you, but not now. So, can you wait for me?” Fan Zhao’s gaze was tender, even pleading.

Qiao Zhen hugged Fan Zhao's neck, looked up at him seriously, and said, "Okay, I'll wait for you to tell me, but please don't keep me waiting too long, I have very little patience."

Fan Zhao subtly avoided Qiao Zhen's gaze, "I have something to do, so I can only come to see you next time, but you should come see me too, okay?"

Qiao Zhen chuckled and said, "Okay."

Just as Qiao Zhen was seeing Fan Zhao off, Zhuo Jue, who was filming in the courtyard, walked up to Qiao Zhen. He took up Qiao Zhen's fair hand and wiped the back of her hand with his fingertips. "Little sister, your hands seem to have some dust on them."

Qiao Zhen raised her hand and looked at it.

"It's gone, I just wiped it off." Zhuo Jue squinted his eyes, in a very good mood, and picked up the camera again. He waved to Qiao Zhen and Fan Zhao and went to the side to film the flowers and plants.

Fan Zhao's gaze was fixed on the back of Qiao Zhen's hand. His fingertips gently scraped the spot where Zhuo Jue had just touched, and he said casually, "When I'm not here, you must take good care of yourself and wash your hands frequently."

"Okay," Qiao Zhen replied immediately.

Zhuo Jue saw through the camera that Fan Zhao's hand was constantly wiping Qiao Zhen's hand, the same spot he had just touched, which confirmed his suspicions.

After Qiao Zhen saw Fan Zhao off, Zhuo Jue looked at him hesitantly and asked her inexplicably, "Little sister, are you brain-dead in love?"

Enraged, she immediately started another fight with Zhuo Jue.

When the two were drenched in sweat, Zhuo Jue lay on the carpet like a dead dog, while Qiao Zhen, her chest heaving, collapsed onto the sofa, panting heavily.