Ling Qingyu twisted the doorknob and entered. Her eyes tried to find Yang Qingyue's figure. A set of furniture was seated in the center, to entertain the guest.
In the corner near the glass wall, covered by the curtain to shade sunlight, Ling Qingyu found a busy figure, scribbling on the desk.
Ling Qingyu's lips curled up and she closed the door behind, locking it. A click ushered like a hammer, Yang Qingyue paused and reached out her hand under the desk at the same time as she looked at the intruder.
After all, no good person would enter one's room and locked the doorway. Only malicious person would act in such a manner.
Of course, Ling Qingyu naturally saw Yang Qingyue's reaction and coughed. She knew her lover was dead serious. Yang Qingyue was obviously reaching for a gun, possibly concealed and holstered under the table.
"You're not going to kill your husband, right?" Ling Qingyu teased.
