Yan Funing wanted to cheat: "I don't have it, do you have any evidence?"
Fu Ciyi's voice was full of interest: "Are you sure you want evidence?"
"You should produce evidence."
Her voice, which used to be soft and gentle, now had a sharp tone.
She just didn't believe it. Would he have evidence?
They were the ones who slept in the same bed last night, and there was no one else. Where did he get the evidence?
The two returned to the west wing.
Fu Ciyi helped the man onto the bed and then pointed to his neck.
Yan Funing blinked: "You are so good, Fu Ciyi, you blame me for your stiff neck?"
"What else? Who is not satisfied with hugging my arm when sleeping and goes so far as to hug my neck?"
The man chuckled softly, a happy laugh.
Yan Funing wanted to cry but had no tears: "My feet hurt."
How could she hug his neck?
Just thinking about that sleeping posture, it’s as ambiguous as it can be.
She was so desperate that she dared to hug the neck of the future sinister and powerful official.
Fu Ciyi glanced at her injured legs and feet and asked calmly, "Do you need to use your feet to make a purse?"
Yan Funing replied softly, "No need."
"You owe me a purse, so just tell me when you're going to pay me."
"Help me take out the cloth bag from the drawer."
Fu Ciyi did as he was told.
Yan Funing took the cloth bag and picked out a piece of silk from it.
"The cloth shop owner is really good. He has several pieces of silk." She showed him the ones she had picked out. "Use this color, okay?"
Seeing her white and tender fingers pinching a piece of black silk, Fu Ciyi nodded with a smile: "Okay."
He always liked black, and she still remembered it.
But I couldn't help asking, "Are you really willing to be my purse?"
"I've already picked out the fabric, how could it be fake?"
Yan Funing lowered her brows, thinking about what color tassel to match.
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