"Why didn't you wait for me? Why? Is five minutes your limit? You think I can't make it in time? Would you get impatient? Huh?"
So be it, then, Zhou Luchen thought, remaining silent. He'd never made a habit of waiting for anyone. Had he? Even if he had, it wouldn't have been for her, Shen Jing. Ten minutes was more than enough time for him to close a deal worth over a hundred million. He had no interest in wasting it on women. Romance? Only when he was in the mood. He never liked keeping troublesome women around. Compliant, obedient, low-maintenance—those were easier to deal with. They were never like Wenxin.
Shen Jing's eyes reddened. Tears streamed down her face as if they cost nothing, soaking his shirt patch by patch.
Even after getting into the car, she clung to Zhou Luchen, weeping, biting his clothes, and tugging at his buttons, her choked sobs conveying her dissatisfaction.
Zhou Luchen's expression was calm. "Remember which hand it was?"
