Jiang Shiyi was born too scholarly. After taking off his coat, he donned a neatly pressed long sleeve white shirt and a crisp pair of black dress pants, exuding a strong academic vibe.
His peach blossom eyes seemed affectionate, but his thin lips were cold and aloof.
"Mr. Xie, I'm ready," Jiang Shiyi said, his voice naturally deep and rich, resonantly pleasing.
"Go ahead," Xie Duo gestured to the young man standing behind him, who clearly looked like a well-grounded practitioner, with rolled-up sleeves revealing bulging, well-toned muscles.
The cameraman nearby gave a few close-up shots, moving the camera over to Jiang Shiyi, who was still languidly rolling up his sleeves.
Obsessive-compulsive about the sleeves not being exactly identical, he was actually still fussing over them.
Jiang Chengsi was on the side, clearly anxious.
My dear brother, at a time like this, you still fuss over your cuffs.
