Xiaoqi was somewhat dazed as he lowered his head to receive the report that Bai Lian handed him.
**
The next day.
Yunxiao Hotel.
Xiaoqi parked the car in a nearby parking lot.
Dressed in a white hoodie, draped in a jacket, he stood outside the main entrance, his eyes dark as coal, his frame lean yet upright.
Ren Jiawei was on her phone talking to a collaborator, "The press conference..."
In the high-rise buildings of Jiangjing, which blocked the morning sun, Ren Jiawei hung up the phone and instinctively looked towards the slender young man nearby, pausing for a moment.
She remembered having seen him before at the airport.
"You..." Ren Jiawei approached, looked at the young man before her, paused, and then said, "Are you waiting for someone here?"
"Waiting for a friend," Xiaoqi's gaze landed on Ren Jiawei's face; he reached back to pull up and fasten his hood.
He was always gentle and polite, as chivalrous as a poet.
