"Sis, what's wrong with you?"
At that moment, Zhao Na's younger sister, Liu Mengyu's maternal aunt Zhao Qian, asked Zhao Na in a soft voice.
Zhao Qian was exactly thirty years old this year, pretty and with a statuesque figure; everyone in this family was exceptionally good-looking.
However, Zhao Qian didn't have a formal job—she was a freelance model, hired for events like car shows or company grand openings.
What even Zhao Na didn't know was that in the past two years, Zhao Qian's line of work had not been doing well. To cover her basic daily expenses, Zhao Qian had participated in a few extravagant parties.
Zhao Qian had already fallen asleep, but she was awakened by the phone call that Zhao Na made to Liu Mengyu.
Moreover, when it came to matters of men and women, Zhao Qian was more knowledgeable than most.
Though Zhao Na hadn't made any obvious movements just now, Zhao Qian guessed what Zhao Na had been doing from those subtle gestures.
