Leng Youchen took his glass of water and, as he passed her on his way out, suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned back and fixed her with a cold, penetrating stare. "If that's the case, then don't do anything foolish to try and get my attention."
Wei Anning froze. He didn't refute her—was he genuinely concerned about her?
But the coldness in his tone made her unable to dare entertain such wishful thoughts.
Leng Youchen paused for a moment, his gaze landing on the burn mark on the back of her hand. "Your hands are the soul of a designer. Protect them. Respect your profession. I do not want my employees to take leave for any reason that may disrupt the progress of work."
Wei Anning watched his retreating figure, feeling an emptiness in her heart.
It turned out that he didn't care about her at all—he was only worried that her injured hand might affect the work.
She raised her right hand and stared blankly at the burn on the back of it.
