After dinner, Mrs. Fu wouldn’t let the two of them wash the dishes.
"Don’t you two fight over this. If you must do something, just watch the kids for a bit. The dishes will be cleaner if I wash them myself."
Her tone was filled with undisguised disdain.
Qin Wenhao was speechless.
So was Fu Mingxue.
’Fine by me. No dishes it is.’
Besides, she hated washing dishes and doing chores more than anything.
After all, she’d done more than her fair share in her past life.
Mrs. Fu worked quickly and efficiently. After she finished the dishes, she bathed the two children.
Then she took them back to her room.
She didn’t want to disturb the couple—after all, she was still hoping they’d give her a grandchild.
Meanwhile, Fu Mingxue took another shower.
When she returned to their room, she saw Qin Wenhao wearing a white tank top.
His exposed arms were covered in powerful, bulging muscles.
A thick, masculine scent seemed to fill the entire room.
The air was instantly tinged with a hint of intimacy.
"Wife—"
Qin Wenhao’s voice was a little hoarse.
His eyes burned as he stared at Fu Mingxue.
He hadn’t had a moment alone with her like this since she’d come back.
He walked over, reached out, and pulled her into his arms—letting out a sigh of contentment.
In truth, he had wanted to do this ever since he saw her when he got home that afternoon.
Now, he was finally holding her.
Feeling the person in his arms struggle, he whispered, "Don’t move. Let me hold you for a bit—"
"Wife, I missed you! Did you miss me?"
Those words had a surprisingly powerful effect on Fu Mingxue.
Instantly, she froze.
To be honest, she hadn’t thought of him at all this past month.

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