An Yan warily cast a glance backward, her eyes flashing with a chill that began to thaw only when she realized the person was Fu Shiyan. The man's sharp suit was soaked, his hair drenched, and his eyes held an indecipherable emotion.
Remembering that the burns on his back were healing, she pulled him inside the building.
"Younger Uncle, why are you here?"
"Your phone was off."
Both were drenched, leaving a puddle where they stood.
"Let's talk at home," An Yan released his arm, walked forward, and pressed the elevator button, looking back at Fu Shiyan.
Fu Shiyan took off his suit jacket and draped it over his arm, stepped inside the elevator with his long legs, raised his hand to press the open button, "Come in."
An Yan walked in and stood next to him, keeping a person's distance, and looked down, pursing her lips.
