Sheng Shaochen's movements while taking down the tripod were so abrupt that she nearly fell off from atop.
Watching his back as he left the room filled with chill air, Ye Shu frowned.
She thought she probably should never discuss love with such a high and mighty man.
Her fingertips once again caressed the wallpaper, carefully and meticulously adhering it inch by inch.
By the doorway, Sheng Shaochen leaned against the black and white geometric patterned wall, lighting a cigar and quietly drawing on it, occasionally glancing at the silent young woman in the room.
Her indifference actually caused him some irritation.
Sheng Shaochen tossed the cigar to the ground and extinguished it with the heel of his shoe.
Just as he was about to turn back into the room, his phone rang.
The words "Han Ruixin" jabbed into his eyes.
Sheng Shaochen, with furrowed brows, walked to the end of the corridor and took the call.
