The light flickering in his eyes had transformed from initial irritation and frustration to a sharp, knife-like intensity.
The phone on the passenger seat rang at that moment.
Song Qingyang's eyes slowly moved over, looking at the flashing name, he lifted his chin slightly.
Song Qingyang answered the call.
A man's magnetic but slightly indifferent voice came from the other end: "Miss Song, I saw your car. Would you call this fate?"
Song Qingyang frowned slightly: "Weren't you at the Shi Family today?"
If he came from the Shi Family, he shouldn't be taking this road.
Yu Dou laughed: "Isn't that right? I just went out to meet a client. For Miss Song, I even canceled a dinner appointment. Isn't Miss Song very touched?"
Song Qingyang's frown deepened, and she asked, "Where are you now?"
Yu Dou didn't answer, but Song Qingyang quickly heard two honks from behind.
She turned her head and saw, about two cars away, there was indeed a car that looked a lot like Yu Dou's.
