A tall and aloof man, carrying an air of cold arrogance, entered the room with a card key.
Shi Yuhuan, impeccably dressed in a white suit today, bore a complexion as pristine as snow and radiated a trace of warmth.
He smoothly closed the door and inserted the room key.
The room's lights illuminated Song Qinghuan, who appeared to be soundly sleeping on the bed. His deep, dark eyes narrowed momentarily, seemingly puzzled and surprised by her presence there.
A chilling tension pervaded the room, and it was so silent that one might hear a pin drop.
With an unemotional glance, Shi Yuhuan surveyed the room with icy eyes, finally resting on the empty milk cup on the bedside table.
With a smoothened brow, he seemed to grasp what was happening.
Li Qianze, always one to act on his own accord.
Shi Yuhuan's gaze lingered briefly on Song Qinghuan before he abruptly turned to leave.
However, after only two steps, he hesitated transiently, made a U-turn and approached Song Qinghuan.
