He originally thought that a young girl in her early twenties, facing an old and disrespectful man like Luo Bin, and later getting scolded nonsensically by netizens, would end up crying her eyes out. However, after seeing for himself, he realized that she was living quite carefree.
Even if he hadn’t shown up, it wouldn’t have mattered to her.
His presence was just like this collaboration with FS, neither ritorious nor faulty.
Fu Jinghen even felt that, had he not co, perhaps Wen Qiao would have been even more carefree.
Wasn’t she planning to go eat barbecue with Song Qian?
Recalling the words Wen Qiao said to Jiang Yao, although he didn’t hear everything, he got the gist.
She was right—if he really wanted to be with Jiang Wei, by now he would no longer have anything to do with her, so there was really no need for such jealousy, and indeed, a wife who was generous and sensible did fit his idea of a partner.
But for so reason, after listening, he felt uncomfortable inside.
It was as if sothing was missing.
She talked about keeping their marriage secret, and in front of others she really did act like a stranger to him, as if the coquettish Wen Qiao who pinched her voice when sweet-talking him was all his own fantasy.
A sense of irritability surged up for no reason, and he couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from.
Suddenly, a "ding dong" sound of glass clinking rang out beside him, and he opened his eyes to look.
Qin Xiang was taking a box of ice cubes out of the car fridge and pouring them into a glass, then shuddered suddenly, as if he had sensed sothing, and turned his head in slow motion, only to et Fu Jinghen’s ferocious gaze.
"Brother Fu," Qin Xiang raised his glass and cautiously asked, "Would you like a drink?"
"Keep it down."
Qin Xiang nodded rapidly like a pecking chicken: "Okay, Brother Fu."
It was only when he saw Fu Jinghen close his eyes again that the breath Qin Xiang was holding finally relaxed.
My goodness.
That was terrifying.
-
Arriving back at the hotel in the evening and just stepping into the room, Jiang Yao adopted an interrogative stance, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, watching Wen Qiao: "Don’t walk any further in, first tell , what exactly happened with the falling into the water incident."
Wen Qiao had been whipped by Director Zhang under the scorching sun all day, and now was dragging her tender and feeble body half-dead inside, having only taken two steps before being stopped by Jiang Yao.
And judging by her posture, it seed that if she didn’t co clean, Jiang Yao would throw her out of the room the next second, letting her spend the night in the hallway.
Wen Qiao rubbed her face, summoning a bit of energy: "Why so serious, I’m not refusing to tell you."
Jiang Yao "hmmph" twice: "You better."
It wasn’t without reason that Jiang Yao made such a big deal; it was because Wen Qiao had too many instances where she caused big troubles without warning, and she didn’t have much credibility left, at least not with Jiang Yao.
Wen Qiao looked at Jiang Yao with a look of grievance: "Can’t you let sit down before I talk?"
The last word rose in a whine, thick with aggrievent, coupled with Wen Qiao’s pouting, looking like a soft dumpling, with a grieving emotion in her eyes that seed about to spill over. Not just any man could resist that look, let alone Jiang Yao, who couldn’t stand being stared at like that.
She shivered and shifted slightly to the side: "Alright, alright, I’ll let you go in and sit down to talk."
Wen Qiao imdiately perked up, striding cheerfully towards the sofa, and flopped down on it like a lump of mud, letting out a contented sigh.
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