The lively atmosphere in the room became serious and orderly.
Leh Ying stood still.
"What's with Liu Huaifeng, discussing tea and 'The Art of War by Sun Tzu' every day, yet giving me curt words without any pleasantries? Is that fun?"
Disdainful, contemptuous, arrogant— the carelessly spoken Beijing accent of the noble son entered alongside the laughter and chatter with friends.
The moment Leh Ying heard Xu Jingxi's voice at the door, which was all too familiar, she paused in the midst of scooping ice cream, her fingertips quivering against the spoon.
She absentmindedly looked up.
Xu Jingxi, with one hand lazily pocketed, glanced over casually, and their eyes met in silence.
Knowing about her ambiguous relationship with Xu Jingxi, the friends following him didn't dare to strike up another conversation.
Leh Ying didn't know what to do, so she scooped a small spoonful of ice cream and ate it.
