Chen Dashan found it amusing. A young girl inviting him for a meal?
Seeing Chen Dashan not speaking, Zhang Xuewen grew anxious. Her small hands fidgeted together, and her long white legs crossed and rubbed against each other.
Her skin was not the porcelain white of Zhao Jiayao, nor the transparent white of Zhao Yaqian. Hers was a lively pinkish-white, more youthful and taut.
Chen Dashan felt his mouth go dry and promptly said, "Is that all you wanted?"
"Alright, I understand. You can go back now!"
Chen Dashan laughed offhandedly, clearly treating himself as a child and not taking her words to heart.
Zhang Xuewen felt a sourness in her heart, but the thought of parting ways with Chen Dashan, possibly never to see him again, pressed her to step forward and grab onto his clothes.
Looking at the sudden grasp of a small hand behind him, Chen Dashan was startled.
Why wouldn't they let him leave?
"You…"
