A few minutes later, when Haoran was done talking with the host, he turned toward the spot where he had left Zixuan—
but it was empty.
A frown came upon his face.
He scanned the place, his gaze moving from table to table. No sight of Zixuan to be found.
"Excuse me," Haoran said, stopping a passing waiter. "The person who was standing here earlier—where did he go?"
The waiter glanced toward a place a little farther off. "Over there, sir, by the corridor."
Haoran's jaw tightened as he turned in that direction…
And there he was.
Zixuan stood leaning casually against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a champagne bottle. In front of him was a young waiter in his twenties, with a boyish smile that made people feel at ease.
Haoran walked closer but stopped dead when he heard Zixuan's laughter.
Zixuan had never laughed with him before—apart from the usual glaring and cursing, this was the first time Haoran had ever heard that sound.
