Song Qinghuan left the office, not to head to the cafeteria, but to the roof of the building.
The wind howled, buzzing in her ears. A hot mist blurred her eyes, seeming like it was about to fall in tears, but it never did.
"Shi Yuhuan..." Song Qinghuan's lips, void of blood, whispered his name. Her voice shook, slightly hoarse, as her misty eyes stared blankly ahead. "Do you really believe Zhan Jie and not me?"
The rooftop was so quiet, no sound but the wind.
But moments later, a mocking voice abruptly rang out, "Oh, did the other woman manage to stir up trouble? Or did he just start to dislike you? I heard the other woman has a large chest. Men always say they don't like busty women, but that's all lies. I say, flat-chested Song Qinghuan, maybe you should eat more papaya to grow some breasts, then your husband won't dislike you."
As she spoke, the owner of the voice emerged from the shadows, a sardonic smile playing on her face as she glanced at Song Qinghuan's chest.
