I knew Chen Jiao definitely wasn't harboring any good intentions, but I still followed her to a hotel.
After all, she still had something I wanted. Although she was no saint and quite capable, she couldn't measure up to her mother's cunning by even half.
Right now, she was like a bull in a china shop, only—though a bull may not have brains, it can still do things that take you by surprise.
I followed Chen Jiao into the elevator up to the fifteenth floor. Along the way, she kept using makeup to cover the bruises on her face; the face that initially had a trace of liveliness was now buried under thick layers of cosmetics, giving off an air of brashness, gaudy to the extreme.
After Chen Jiao finished retouching her makeup, she tossed her mirror into her bag and, with her arms crossed, stared at me and said, "Who'd have thought, you really managed to cozy up to Cheng Yu, what a slick move."
