Then, just as before, he lay on the windowsill, reaching out his hands to Ji Anning, "Give me your hand."
Looking at his impeccably handsome big hands, Ji Anning felt an inexplicable sense of solidity and reassurance in her heart.
Her hand stretched out to him without hesitation, even somewhat eagerly, as if she had longed to grasp his hand.
Yet, even as both stretched their hands to the limit, they could not touch each other, the distance still unreachable.
Ji Chicheng looked down below, then climbed onto the windowsill without hesitation and climbed out.
Seeing this, Ji Anning screamed in fright, "Uncle, no!"
"Shut up." Ji Chicheng gave her a warning look, and she immediately pursed her lips, seeming frightened, her small face damp with sweat rolling down her forehead.
Ji Chicheng looked at her and couldn't help but smile, "Ji Anning, are you scared?"
As he asked, he stretched his hand as much as he could toward her, with half of his body already outside the window.