The chauffeur glanced at his strikingly handsome face through the rearview mirror, as well as that enticingly sexy way he smoked. There was no helping it. This man exuded an aura of nobility from head to toe, making it impossible to doubt anything he said.
But the chauffeur had absolutely zero interest in chatting with him. Seriously!
And yet, there he was, lazily continuing to prattle on, "Hey, what's the top speed of this car?"
The chauffeur wore a proud face, very much wanting to retort arrogantly: I won't tell you.
Yet, Nangong Jin possessed a certain charisma that compelled submission, even if, at the moment, he radiated lethargy and posed no real threat.
"Two hundred and eighty," the chauffeur replied grudgingly, feeling as though he'd just taken ten thousand critical hits to the heart. If someone didn't even know the top speed of a typical car, it clearly meant they'd never driven a vehicle like this.
Or even touched one.
