To amuse the old lady, he took a picture and let her choose the place herself to celebrate her birthday, and just like that, she casually pointed and picked an upscale venue.
As soon as Lian Qiao got out of the car, Tong Jiawei's bright, wolf-like eyes shot over, radiating a green light, still with that rogue, wastrel look of a rich young master, nearly shamelessly sneering with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Yo yo, little sister Qiao, long time no see. You've become quite charming, haven't you? Looks like your Crown Prince has done a solid job," he teased.
This was his usual way of showing up in front of her, and the most familiar face as well, to her, of utter shamelessness; to him, this was just the way buddies should act—teasing but not artificial, debonair but not vulgar.
Frankly, he really felt that being able to see her occasionally and maintaining a unique place in her heart, different from other men, was enough for him.
"What character, little guy."
