Ning Wan stepped into the private room and couldn't help but tsk in amazement, sitting down right next to Song Qiao and asking, "Qiaoqiao, now I finally understand the perks of clinging onto a wealthy man's thigh. Look at you, such an example. Should I also set my sights on finding someone extremely rich?
Song Qiao was drinking milk when she heard Ning Wan's words, almost choking on it. She turned and glared at her, her tone teasing, "Are you so eager to get married? If that's the case, just hurry up and marry a rich man!"
They joked around with each other, as besties do; there's nothing they can't talk about, sometimes even playfully insulting one another.
Ning Wan looked at her with disdain, laughing, "You're already stepping into the graveyard of marriage, but I'm certainly not in a rush to marry. Besides, do you think it's easy to find a man who suits me, is marriage material and is wealthy too?"
