He walked up to Wen Lingyue, his expression unreadable as he said, "Who let you come to this sort of place?"
Wen Lingyue's pupils constricted, trembling slightly.
She looked at the woman sitting disheveled on the sofa amid the lights and wine, feeling as if there was a fire burning in her throat.
Her voice was very slow, very dull, "Zhao Hanchen, if you wanted someone else, you could have told me. I might not have any dignity, but I wouldn't cling to you unwillingly."
Zhao Hanchen didn't say a word, just looked at the girl's face as she struggled to hold back tears.
In the private room, Li Zhao held his phone, ended the call, and said with a smile, "Fan'an says he'll be right here!"
Zhao Hanchen seemed as if he hadn't heard, not even sparing a glance.
And Wen Lingyue, watching the silent man before her, felt her heart plummeting fast.
A voice echoed in her ear, mocking and sighing, "Wen Lingyue, what are you still hoping for?"
What are you still hoping for?
