Mu Yichen leaned on the sofa for a while, feeling a bit melancholy as he stood to grab the cigarette pack on the table, but his hand stopped just as he reached the cigarette.
The image of Qin Mu smoking suddenly flashed in his mind, and Mu Yichen's hand loosened unexpectedly, the cigarette falling perfectly back into its original position.
In the deep black of night, in a silent space, one person slowly sunk into the sofa, with a light sigh carrying a sense of heartache.
——
The next day, the weather was cold and gloomy.
The office building, at the top, was shrouded in a layer of cold mist.
At this moment, within the high-level meeting room, the temperature was below minus forty degrees.
The usually bossy executives, each with their own temper in front of subordinates, now hung their heads, long faces like it was the end of the world.
At the front, the face of their boss, Mu Yichen, was the primary cause of all this.
