He Zhilan withdrew her hand with great awkwardness and looked up at He Teng, noticing his serious expression, which did not seem to be joking.
"Forget it," after a long while, He Zhilan shook her head, "I know there must be a reason for what you're doing. This morning, I also lost my temper the whole morning, hitting your pillow at least a hundred times. It's just because I'm mad you didn't tell me the reason, by myself, my mind goes all over the place."
"There's nothing much to think about. I just wanted you to spend more time with me," He Teng raised his hand to touch He Zhilan's face, sighing slightly; his little wife has always been so sensible.
But at times like this, He Teng would actually rather He Zhilan throw a tantrum, hit or scold him than to speak to him so rationally.
"If you won't say it, forget it." He Zhilan looked down at her own toes and asked in a muffled voice, "Then can you tell me, is it that I have an incurable disease?"
