She looked at her face in the mirror. Her brows were furrowed and her eyes swam with complex emotions.
Her period had always come on time.
At most, there would only be two or three days of difference.
Why is it now…
Could it be…
…
The crowd that was helplessly standing at one side exchanged glances; they did not know what to do about the situation.
Meng Qinghe took a glance at the man seated in an elegant posture. The latter was slowly twirling the wine glass in his hand as he savored its velvety flavor. His eyes, with drooped lids, never once left the conflict.
His indifference made it seem as if he were an uninvolved party in this current farce.
This made him feel secretly surprised; at this juncture, how could this man still leisurely savor wine?
Still, the man did not come across as totally indifferent to all this.
