The car door clicked open.
"Come in, don't be shy."
Cheng Jiashu had one hand on the steering wheel, turned his head, and greeted.
Fang Cheng didn't hesitate, casually tossed the heavy duffel bag into the car, then stretched his long legs and stepped inside.
But he didn't pull the passenger-side door; instead, he directly opened the back door, confidently occupying the spacious rear sofa seat.
His demeanor was as if he had turned the multi-millionaire pop star into a personal chauffeur.
Cheng Jiashu lifted his gaze, looked at the man in the backseat through the rearview mirror, his lips curving slightly:
"Seven days of military training, why do you look like you've been to prison? I see your skin is much darker, not as genteel as before."
"About the same, there's hardly any difference with prison."
Fang Cheng leaned back against the leather sofa, stretched his arms out comfortably.
The joints in his spine and shoulders cracked loudly in a series of pops.
