Lu Xuechen raised his eyebrow and asked Lin Jiayu, "Where's Xiao Yu?"
His slender finger brushed gently across his lips as an indescribable sense of amusement appeared in his eyes.
"She's sick. She's sleeping at home," Lin Jiayu said deliberately as she gave Fang Zhihan a cold glance.
Sick? This word made Fang Zhihan furrow his brows. Without saying a word, he suddenly stood up and left.
As soon as Fang Zhihan left, Lu Xuechen could no longer hold back his laughter. Amused at Fang Zhihan's misfortune, he said, "Finally, your day has come."
Lin Jiayu looked at Lu Xuechen coldly, "What kind of friend are you?"
Lu Xuechen leaned back lazily in his chair, "Who told you he was my friend? He is clearly my enemy. It's not easy to see him suffer, how could I not laugh?"
"But, Gangan's not happy."
"What is there to be unhappy about?"
Men were a bunch of pigs. Talking to them about love was a complete waste of time.
