Half an hour later, the two finally left.
Qiao Dehou's gaze remained on their backs, impassive.
Not until their figures completely disappeared from his view did he subtly furrow his brow, a trace of worry flashing in his eyes: Why is Xiao Mo entangled with him again?
…
All the way, neither of them spoke a word.
Upon reaching the car, Qiao Mo glanced at the man beside her. His face had been sullen, his thin lips etched in a sharp arc, and his deep black eyes were also tinged with disturbance.
As if sensing her gaze, Fu Nancheng looked up at her.
Qiao Mo met his eyes for a few seconds, then silently got into the car.
As the car sped along, Qiao Mo turned her head to watch the bustling streets outside the window, finally unable to hold back from softly saying, "I'm sorry for letting you down."
Fu Nancheng was slightly dazed, looking at her profile. His eyes had a hint of redness.
Qiao Mo turned her head, smiling lightly at him, "Fu Nancheng, do you like me?"
