His chest was warm, making it almost impossible for Qiao Mo to push him away.
But she ultimately overcame the longing in her heart, removed his large hand, and said coldly, "Is Mr. Fu done talking? If so, I need to work now."
"Xiao Mo." Fu Nancheng felt a tightness in his chest, only perceiving her gaze and her voice as cold as ice.
Qiao Mo said nothing, walked away from his side, sat in front of the computer, and began typing: "I'm starting work. Can Mr. Fu leave?"
Fu Nancheng gazed at her for a long time, and two minutes later, he turned around and sat down on the sofa, not leaving.
The room quickly returned to silence, leaving only the occasional sound of Qiao Mo typing on the keyboard.
He didn't speak again, and Qiao Mo did not insist on driving him away, yet an unspoken coldness and awkwardness always lingered in the air.
Time passed quickly, and before long, darkness had completely enveloped the sky.
