When Song Qinghuan returned to the opulent dining room, the butler was instructing the servants to spread a white embroidered tablecloth on the long dining table.
Seeing her come downstairs, the butler immediately went over and respectfully led her to a seat in the living room.
After thanking the butler, Song Qinghuan sat down alone.
She casually looked around, and when her gaze moved forward again, she saw the man she had just encountered outside the study- the Eldest Young Master Morng.
He sat across from her, a smirk playing on his lips. He crossed his long legs, resting them on the coffee table in front of him, and leaned his upright body against the sofa. Then, he lit a cigarette in his mouth.
Once again, Song Qinghuan had to admit, that man was exquisite--masked behind a wafting layer of smoke, he took on a hint of luxurious decadence.
When their eyes met, she felt her heart inexplicably constricted, as if she could hardly breathe.
