Zhao Yingjun, standing before him, was wearing a black sweater that accentuated her figure, paired with gray trousers that made her long legs look even straighter and more slender.
On her feet were the familiar black high heels, which seemed as though they were welded to her feet; Lin Xian had never seen Zhao Yingjun wearing any other shoes.
"Feeling better?" Zhao Yingjun stared at Lin Xian.
"Huh?"
Lin Xian had been eyeing her attire and didn't understand what she meant.
Zhao Yingjun tilted her chin towards Lin Xian's waist:
"Is your waist feeling better? I saw you looked uncomfortable coming out of the car that night, did you twist it?"
"Yeah."
Lin Xian nodded:
"I was a bit tense at the time, and I strained my muscles from being so stiff. But it's much better today; I hardly feel it anymore."
?
The two staff members at the equipment desk turned their heads, looking at them with confusion.
What kind of terrible conversation is this?
