"Although, to be fair, no one could resist being kissed by such a Little Milk Bun."
Tang Wenhuo looked at his empty hands before turning to Tang Chuang: ...
"Steady on, old man. Don't float away when you walk."
***
By the time Tang Jin drowsily got up the next day,
She had dealt with the Yan yesterday and then hugged her little dust whisk, losing all memory of what happened afterward.
At that moment, Little Milk Bun rubbed her big eyes.
She looked at the face that suddenly came very close to her.
Specks of sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting light on his delicate side profile.
The thin golden glasses exuded a scholarly elegance from the inside out.
Little Milk Jin hadn't reacted yet and reached out to touch the familiar face.
Then—pinched it hard.
Tang Wenhuo had his head pinched squarely by Little Milk Jin and took a sharp intake of breath, seemingly realizing what Little Bun was thinking; he raised his hand to hold the little paw.