At three in the morning, Jiang Mian fell into a deep sleep.
Damn it!
This man is really hard to please.
I almost reopened old wounds.
Fu Sichen stood on the outside balcony, letting the wind sweep by, his calm, dark eyes tinged with a hint of coldness as he looked up slightly meaningfully.
"Is everything taken care of?"
The person on the other end of the phone replied respectfully, "Everything's been handled."
"President Fu, there's one more thing—Old Mr. Fu asked me to tell you that Mr. Fu is coming back tomorrow, and the old man said to bring Mrs. Fu back to the old house."
A trace of ferocity flitted across Fu Sichen's cool and noble face, his voice even, "Okay, I know."
He hung up the phone, the evening breeze felt exceptionally chilly.
*
The next day, as the sun slowly rose, warmth spread inside the room.
Two sleeping figures were faintly visible on the bed.
"Bzzz—"
