Capital City, a high-end restaurant.
Qiao Leling occasionally stole glances at the man across from her, whose features were deep and contoured as if carved by God himself, flawless and beyond critique.
His ash-gray shirt was crisp and clean, exuding a distinct aura, every move reflecting the steadiness and restraint of a mature man.
The ascetic and noble temperament he naturally radiated captivated her especially.
"Shijing, I heard you were sick recently. Are you better now?"
Song Shijing methodically sliced the goose liver on his plate and responded indifferently, "Hmm."
"Every time I go to the company to see you, you're never there." Qiao Leling pouted slightly, looking at Song Shijing with a mournful expression, "Are you deliberately avoiding me?"
"No."
He definitely was.
She knew Song Shijing was at the company, but Chen Bing simply wouldn't let her into his office—without his orders, Chen Bing wouldn't dare do such a thing.
