This poised air hostess, shyly wrote her phone number on a sticky note, and stuffed it into Chen Feng's hand before pretending to leave for some errand. Chen Feng cheerfully folded the note, tucked it into his pocket; he often indulged in such amusements. But he'd easily forget about them as soon as he turned his head. It was merely a wicked hobby of his—not that he was particularly intent on a romantic tryst or anything.
Chen Feng saw Daddy's right hand resting on the back of his own left, rhythmically tapping as though playing the piano. The corners of Chen Feng's mouth slightly turned up—it seemed Daddy was ready to make his move.
