Ling Hua stormed off, fuming with rage. Yan Qing sat in the Drawing Hall, watching her leave the room, even her receding figure bristling with anger, as if about to erupt in smoke. He silently chuckled to himself.
He had nearly been unable to resist agreeing with her just now.
That little trickster was no longer deceiving or coaxing him, she had changed her strategy, now she was tempting him.
What was his future like? Before living as a profligate, he had pondered it millions of times, but after adopting the lifestyle, he just took each day as it came, not thinking about tomorrow once today was over.
It had been four years, and this was the first time someone had spoken to him about the future.
Yan Qing slowly ceased his smiling, if the future were as she wished, that would naturally be good, but he wondered whether he would be fortunate enough to have such a future.
He listlessly rose to his feet, moving towards the inner room.
