Song Yue no longer pressed aggressively, "Perhaps, what would you like to drink? I'll get it for you."
"No need." Fan Rou timely handed Ye Ranran a drink, "Your favorite pear juice."
Ye Ranran looked at Fan Rou appreciatively; the role of a good friend shines at this moment.
"So it's the third young miss, I would have thought you were a waitress," Song Yue shook the juice in her glass.
A beauty indeed, every move she makes is graceful and pleasing to the eyes.
Yet, that remark was really unpleasant.
"Miss Song makes it sound funny. If getting me a cup of juice makes one a waitress, then wouldn't Miss Song be one too? Oh, and quite eagerly promoting it to me as well."
Her slow and prolonged tone, like the gentle rain in March, silent and soft, yet carries the lingering chill of winter days.
