Several hours passed, and Lu Moqing's terrible mood did not improve at all. In his mind, he saw Qiao Xu's tender manner when she gently called a man baby, as if torturing his brain nerves.
He stood by the window, holding a glass of red wine in his hand. The bright and spacious floor-to-ceiling windows reflected his slender figure. His seemingly cold eyes were filled with lingering sorrow that had been suppressed for a long time.
His well-defined fingers skillfully pinched the stem of the wine glass, with his fingertips pressing down slightly, as if he wanted to crush the delicate glass.
Recalling Qiao Xu's evasiveness and guilt when he asked her who that man was, it further provoked Lu Moqing's uncontrollable nerves.
He downed half a glass of red wine in one gulp, but it neither extinguished the flickering flame in his chest, but instead made it burn even more fiercely.
