Song Weiyi silently observed and was astonished that his skin was in fact incredibly smooth; not even a pore could be seen.
And the lashes, long and curled, made her envious as a woman.
"Did you go for an interview today?" Pei Yibai slid a piece of steak into his mouth, his posture utterly elegant, noble like the British gentlemen Song Weiyi had seen on television.
He chewed at a leisurely pace, his lips moving softly once or twice, the curve slight, elegant and dashing— the scene was as beautiful as a painting.
Suddenly, Song Weiyi felt that even watching her husband eat was a delightful sight, yet she didn't forget he was conversing with her.
"Yes, I've come back from the interview."
"How did it feel? Were you nervous?" As someone who had been through it, even though he hadn't personally experienced such moments, Pei Yibai could still imagine the interviewees' sentiments.
