Having hung up the phone, Chen Ziqian hurriedly put on his shoes and left the house, driving rapidly all the way. Wasn't that woman always so domineering and aggressive? How did she end up crying like that?
He knew full well how stubborn Suxin was. She would never let him hear her cry unless she really couldn't help it.
Underneath the French plane trees at the entrance of Dihao Grand Hotel, a black Bentley was parked with its windows rolled down halfway. A man's arm rested on the edge of the car, slender fingers clasping a cigarette. Wisps of white smoke rose and dispersed. The man had a handsome, sun-kissed face with features sculpted in relief, but his phoenix eyes were as deep and cold as the millennia-old Cold Pool, laced with a hint of pain.
The man's gaze was fixated on the woman squatting on the ground in front of him. Her body tightly curled up, small and forlorn, she looked as desolate as a lone wild goose strayed from its flock in the distance.
