Mu Tingfeng had taken note of Zhao Youlin's unusual reaction almost instantly. He frowned and quietly reached out to hold Zhao Youlin's right hand, which had clenched into a fist. He gently but strongly unclenched her fist. Then, he crossed his fingers with hers and clasped their hands together to avoid Zhao Youlin from hurting herself due to excessive force.
The familiar warmth coming from the palm of his hand calmed down Zhao Youlin's restless heart, which had become agitated because of some speculation she had just formed in her mind.
Zhao Youlin turned her head to look at Mu Tingfeng. She shook her head, telling him that she was fine.
Judging by her reaction, Mu Tingfeng did not believe her. He tightened his grip on Zhao Youlin's hand, as if he was trying to share Zhao Youlin's inner turmoil at the moment.
