Shen Zhiyi's suspicion wasn't wrong; indeed, the man wasn't some wealthy scion but merely a pretty face surviving on the patronage of a rich woman. That's why he was utterly unfamiliar with Pei Yu's face and subconsciously assumed he was the same kind of person, here to poach business.
His eyes wary, he said, "Sister, I feel the younger ones are better."
Although this man was excessively handsome, his gaze and demeanor were too detached—nothing like his own appealing, obedient younger brother vibe.
Shen Zhiyi just wanted him to stop talking.
The hand on her shoulder lifted to caress her face gently, and Pei Yu spoke in a low tone, void of any distinct emotion, "Like the younger ones, do you?"
Shen Zhiyi: "...No, not at all, impossible."
