Wei Sulin walked over to the Maybach and knocked on the rear seat window.
"Second Young Master."
After a while, the car window rolled down.
Zhou Luchen closed his laptop and, with his ring finger, pushed up the thin, silver-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, casting a sidelong glance at Wei Sulin.
Wei Sulin's hand froze in mid-air, stunned.
It was rare to see Zhou Luchen wearing glasses. He only wore them to protect his eyes when he had been working on the computer too much.
Every time he wore them, women were left flustered.
The silver, thin-rimmed glasses concealed those long eyes that seemed flirtatious even when merely looking at a cat. Silver, a color that best exemplified a noble air. The asceticism in his look paired with the aura of decadent indulgence he exuded.
That kind of bad-to-the-bone allure was fatally attractive.
