Before going to sleep, she put away the clothes and daily necessities she had brought over from the apartment, crouching in front of her suitcase. She gazed at the dark blue box in her hands, lost in melancholy.
Why had she not given it away yet?
Because she had suddenly realized it wasn't attractive.
It was love at first sight when she bought it, but once she got it home, it seemed just average. After a while, she felt completely indifferent to it.
Forget it, she'd choose something else another day.
Just as she was about to put the item back, she failed to notice the door, left ajar, was pushed open, and a man's deep, magnetic voice fell from above, "Muttering to yourself alone in the room, huh?"
Liang Weining shifted her gaze slightly and stealthily stuffed the box back into her suitcase, questioning with suspicion, "When did I mutter to myself?"
Oh.
She had just complained about the tie clip being too old-fashioned.
