Nan Yu silently sent the address to Chen Li, her head bowed as she tapped on the smartphone screen, replying to Song Yingqing's message.
Beside her, the sound of Huo Juanyan flipping through documents filled the air, and at the tip of her nose was the cold scent of snowy woods, which inevitably made her feel drowsy.
She rubbed her eyes and leaned back to alleviate her fatigue, turning her head to look at Huo Juanyan.
She could just make out the left side of his face that wasn't covered by the mask.
The left side of his face had sharp contours, with perfectly chiseled jawlines, a straight nose, eyes deep as ink, and thin lips slightly pursed, all exuding an aura of indifference.
If his right face weren't injured, he would probably be a very handsome man.
Just looking at his aura, and comparing it to her husband whom she had met only once and whose features were now a bit blurry in her memory, she felt there was some resemblance, the same cold and aloofness.
