Sometimes a fine drizzle falls, the ground is very wet, the road is hard to walk, Tang Huai's steps are very slow.
Jing Peng hasn't noticed her yet, he's staring straight ahead, smoking one cigarette after another.
From his profile, Tang Huai could see annoyance, heaviness, worry...
This man, is he having a fit?
Tang Huai walked right past him without even saying hello—
"Stop!" Jing Peng suddenly called out to her.
She stopped, turned her face, and looked at him indifferently: "What's the matter?"
"Yesterday, if you hadn't said that Tang Ying was ill, my two uncles would have definitely called the police. Why didn't you say from the start that Tang Ying was ill?"
"When I choose to speak, that's my business. Whether I say it at the beginning or near the end of the meeting, the result for you is the same, standing here smoking unharmed." Tang Huai's tone was inevitably confrontational.
