"Nothing much," Fu Jinghen didn’t expose the young girl’s pretense: "Just asking randomly."
"..."
Sure, just asking randomly.
There was a knock on the door of the lounge, and Fu Jinghen got up to open it.
A man in a suit stood outside, holding a suit in his hand.
"President Fu, here are the clothes you requested."
Fu Jinghen took the clothes and thanked the man: "Thank you, sorry for the trouble."
After closing the door, he carried the clothes back, lifted the garnt cover, and the newly delivered suit was similar in style to the one Fu Jinghen had dirtied, with only minor changes in details.
Wen Qiao casually said, "This set looks pretty much the sa as what you’re wearing now."
"Mm," Fu Jinghen said, "They both match your dress quite well."
Wen Qiao laughed, "So it was specially paired with mine, huh?"
Have to say, Fu Jinghen really had so subtle thoughts that even made her, as a woman, feel inferior.
"Yes." Fu Jinghen wasn’t embarrassed to admit it.
The lounge had a changing room set up, and Fu Jinghen headed towards it with the clothes.
He had only taken a couple of steps before Wen Qiao stopped him, "Change right here. There’s no cara in the lounge, and I’m not an outsider, nothing to avoid."
The young girl’s bright eyes clearly said "teasing," and after a mont of silence, Fu Jinghen changed direction and walked toward Wen Qiao.
Wen Qiao leaned back, crossing her legs, letting the raised leg swing, and her hand tapped rhythmically on the sofa arm, her expression turning a bit flirty.
She lifted her hand slightly, "Go ahead, take it off."
Fu Jinghen looked at her intently and removed the bowtie from his neck, casually tossing it aside, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Wen Qiao’s hand that was tapping gradually stopped, her eyes unconsciously following Fu Jinghen’s well-defined hands, trailing downward from the first button.
The atmosphere in the lounge gradually beca thick and ambiguous.
The man’s chest slowly ca into her view, and Wen Qiao involuntarily straightened her posture and swallowed hard.
Why did the air in the lounge suddenly feel less?
The man’s intense gaze hovered above her head, his hands kept moving, and she watched as he pulled the shirt out of his pants and undid the last button.
With a soft "click," Wen Qiao lowered her raised leg, the thin heel clicked onto the floor.
Grabbing the clothes on the sofa in one swift motion, Wen Qiao shoved them into Fu Jinghen’s arms, "Alright, the performance is over. Go change inside."
Fu Jinghen caught the young girl’s flustered look; he chuckled quietly and didn’t say anything, turning to the changing room with the clothes.
Once he went in, Wen Qiao imdiately fanned her face with her hand to dissipate the heat, pacing around the room.
It’s not like she hadn’t seen it before; why was she so useless?
Not really her fault; that man was like a fairy, and she, being a lustful person, would be impressive to resist.
Wen Qiao took a couple of deep breaths, finally downing the glass of water on the table.
Fu Jinghen erged in the new attire, and Wen Qiao had cald herself, looking at her phone.
Hearing the sound, Wen Qiao looked up and whistled like a ruffian, "President Fu, you look amazing."
The man’s figure was upright, making the suit look exceptionally good.
The new suit didn’t need a tie or bowtie, and the shirt underneath was designed with a deep V and stood-up collar, adding a bit of rakish charm.
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