He Would Not Even Be Willing to Touch Her Dirty Hands

Qi Chengyue blinked several times. She stared blankly at her hand, which Cheng Dongge grabbed so instinctively. It was only after opening the car door and helping her get in did he let go.

She looked at her palm. The warmth and texture of Cheng Dongge's palm lingered on hers. The moment he held her hand, a surge of electric-like feeling coursed from her wrist upward. It had a numbing sensation.

"Can you handle spicy food?" Cheng Dongge inquired while he started the engine.

Qi Chengyue was still daydreaming—every single word he said flew over her. Cheng Dongge asked her again, but she still did not react. Seeing this, he leaned over to call her.

Qi Chengyue heard a sound drawing closer and closer to her. When she finally heard him, she rapidly turned her head but was unexpectedly met with Cheng Dongge's face right in front of hers. The distance both of them was merely the length of a hand—it was not extremely close, but they could feel each other's breath.