Yang Xu was stunned.
The gathering at his table all fell silent too.
The wine glass with the soaking phone bubbled up continuously.
Yang Xu was quiet for a full five seconds before cursing, "Lu Jingyan, you—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Lu Jingyan suddenly leaned in toward Yang Xu.
In the dimly lit nightclub, her skin was so white it seemed to glow. She had reapplied her lipstick after having dinner and shopping with Song Xian, choosing a matte burnt tomato color.
But her gaze was indifferent, her face expressionless; she seemed completely aloof, like a cold, unfeeling machine—even the words she spoke were slow and cool.
"The one begging was Lu Zhou, not me, Lu Jingyan."
"Whatever deal you have between you is your business. Don't drag me into it."
