When Fu Chen received the news, he was sitting in the pear garden with his good friend. The person opposite him was holding a cup of hot tea. Half a ray of light came from the flower window at the side and landed on him, making him look like fog.
That person had an extremely handsome and elegant face. Fu Chen's facial features were abstinent and cold, but this man exuded a feminine aura, yet he didn't look feminine at all. Instead, he was extremely handsome.
He tilted his head and looked at Fu Chen. "What's wrong? What's the matter?"
His accent was perfect.
"In the past, I asked you to change your phone, but you weren't willing. You said that you felt nostalgic. After not seeing you for a while, you even used WeChat." That person's tone was teasing. There was arrogance and aloofness, and he looked otherworldly.
Fu Chen narrowed his eyes and didn't say anything.
The man looked up at the stage. "Do you know what this play is called?"
