Li Zaijun didn't know what she was feeling—jealousy, envy, anger, or something else?
They hadn't done anything, just stood together talking, yet her heart felt as if it had been drenched in acid, corroding away with bitterness.
The driver slowly drove the Bentley to a stop in front of them.
If she didn't leave now, it would be too late, yet suddenly she felt an unspeakable sense of helplessness, not wanting to go out.
A feeling of wanting only to avoid it all.
Not wanting to face any of it.
The car stopped, the driver got out to open the door for her, and the woman naturally got into the passenger seat.
But the driver didn't get in again; it was Shen Lin who was about to drive.
Li Zaijun watched silently, the corners of her lips lifting into a slight sneer, unclear if she was mocking others or herself.
Yet, just as Shen Lin was about to walk around the front of the car, as if sensing something, his steps paused.
