The bicycle came to a halt.
The woman in a pink long dress stood on one leg, her peach-blossom eyes lingering romantically on Yu Jingting.
When Yu Jingting saw her, he spat forcefully in his mind, disgusted!
"Director Qu, what a coincidence."
At his words, the woman, with red nail polish on her hands, covered her mouth and laughed, "Isn't that so? It must be fate."
Yu Jingting, who never believed in ghosts or gods, seriously reflected.
Could it be because he, at the holy land of Buddhism, had the audacity to think of sneaking into the woods with his wife, and that he had aroused the envy, jealousy, and hatred of the Buddha, who sent this lovelorn lunatic to annoy him?
As Yu Jingting was mentally blasting her with his thoughts, in Director Qu's eyes, he appeared deeply restrained, melancholic, and handsome.
Director Qu, her throat parched and tongue scorched, struggled to suppress her burgeoning fondness.
