Her heart felt an icy chill, as though a large chunk was missing, leaving a hole through which the December wind howled, stripping her body of any warmth.
Up to now, she had finally come to terms with the situation.
Fu Rong didn't look at her, his perpetually cold gaze sharp enough to cut through ice: "Pick up the beads on the ground and restring them."
As if worried Ye Ranran might refuse, he added, "This is an order."
Indeed, he was the superior, and she the subordinate—when the boss gives orders, the subordinate must obey.
This wasn't the kind of place where you could simply quit, and years of effort would amount to nothing if she resigned.
She considered trying to transfer somewhere else, even to an unpopular department, just to avoid the mutual aggravation.
"Understood." Ye Ranran crouched down.
Just as she picked up one bead, the woman presumptuously remarked, "Forget it, I suppose she didn't mean it. Let it go."
"Did you hear that? Hurry up and thank Miss Sun."
