After sorting everything out, Fu Jinghen's message timely came through again.
He said he had arrived.
Wen Qiao picked up her handbag and chose a pair of flat leather shoes before heading out.
Fu Jinghen, as usual, was standing outside the car waiting for Wen Qiao, only this time, it was evident that her steps toward him were much lighter than before.
He smiled, stood upright, and walked a few steps forward to meet her.
His hand naturally took hold of hers.
Wen Qiao raised an eyebrow, shaking their joined hands slightly, "You sure take initiative."
"My hand has a mind of its own," Fu Jinghen said unabashedly, "It particularly likes being in close contact with yours."
"..."
This old man has a lot of ridiculous justifications.
Today, Fu Jinghen was driving a black Bugatti Veyron, which Wen Qiao had seen before at the Yujia Garden villa, but she knew that compared to sports cars, Fu Jinghen seemed to prefer sedans.
This was the first time she had seen him drive this car.
