Xiang Yuan heard Zhao Yang's words and sighed deeply again. His gaze at Zhao Yang carried a trace of worry, and he displayed a look of not knowing what to say or how to say it.
Zhao Yang, seeing his sorrowful expression, couldn't help but start to twitch at the corners of his mouth, which in turn caused the veins on his forehead to uncontrollably twitch as well.
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
Please don't put on that constipated look, all right...
Zhao Yang inwardly criticized, observing his constipated demeanor; he had already begun to feel an irresistible urge to beat him up! Thinking so, he tightened his hand that he had placed on his lap.
"It's nothing..."
After holding it in for a long time, Xiang Yuan squeezed out those words and then turned his body away, continuing to look at the documents in his hands.
