Song Qiao knitted her brows and glanced up at him, but quickly shifted her gaze to the flickering numbers, bit her lip, and spoke in a faint voice, "No need, after all, you are the one with the money."
Whether he knew what she liked or disliked made no difference. How could a man like Lu Jingchen—with status, position, and a powerful background, virtually unchallenged in An City—possibly go out of his way to cater to her?
Sometimes it's enough to just listen to some things; there's no need to take them seriously.
Just then, the elevator doors opened. Lu Jingchen, seeing that face suddenly become quiet, wasn't sure if he was overthinking or if it was indeed so, but now Song Qiao seemed a bit more distant, even slightly resistant to his closeness. He narrowed his eyes, a faint undercurrent flickering in his gaze, yet said nothing. He simply reached out, took the girl's hand, and stepped out of the elevator that had just opened.
