After she finished speaking, she turned and left, truly infuriated.
Jiang Mei saw the apples on the table, and she smilingly brought them over: "Young Master Nan, do you like apples? Have a piece."
Nan Sichen frowned as he struggled to remember, but he couldn't recall ever having any connection with the woman in front of him; his mind was a chaotic mess.
"I don't want it." He declined coldly.
Jiang Mei was slightly startled, then said, "Then have a tangerine. I know you don't like apples. I'll peel one for you."
As she spoke, she reached out with her slender fingers to grab a tangerine.
Nan Sichen turned to look at her hand, which was delicate and fair, with slender, long fingers. But her nails were also long and sharp, adorned with glittering things and painted with incomprehensible designs.
Nan Sichen frowned slightly; in his memory, there seemed always to be a pair of hands that were clean and simple, with well-trimmed nails.
Like—
