Phoenix wasn't sure how it felt to be praised by a man she utterly disliked. To her, it felt strange and dismissive, like sugar-coated poison, yet she couldn't help but steal a few extra glances his way.
It seemed she was desperately trying to confirm if this man was indeed Ye Zheng, if he was that bastard, that scumbag Ye Zheng.
But that face, an identical face, even with the vermilion mole on the forehead, how could it be anyone else?
Impossible.
He was still that utterly loathsome Ye Zheng.
"I'm leaving." She retrieved a wallet from her suit pocket, a pure black one that showed no femininity, pulled out a hundred-yuan bill, and slapped it on the table, "Drink slowly on your own."
Ye Zheng's eyes slightly softened, the smile on his lips deepening, "We're about to become a married couple, is there really a need to be so clear-cut?"
