Tong Xiaohua's room, just like her personality, was so simple it bordered on austere.
The first thing that caught the eye was a large bed with black and white stripes, next to it a small bedside cabinet, not a large wardrobe stood on one side of the bed, and at the foot of the bed was a desk with some books laid out on it. Near the balcony, there was a small bar, which seemed to have some wine on it, but Yan Bo doubted it was anything but a façade.
After all, with a temperament like Tong Xiaohua's, it hardly seemed like she was the type to enjoy sipping a few drinks in her leisure time; moreover, she often worked until late into the night—when would she have the time for wine?
Yan Bo's gaze swept around the room, which was as tidy as any man's, and he felt a pang of sympathy for Tong Xiaohua.
In her bloom of youth, she should have been enjoying carefree days shopping with girlfriends, dating boyfriends, and watching movies.
