Zhao Meimei stood by the table with a plate, watching Shi Yang.
The white shirt Shi Yang wore looked especially clean under the soft lighting. He leaned against the wall, holding a phone close to his ear with one hand while the other was tucked into his pants pocket. His casual slacks hugged his firm, long legs tightly, and his hips formed a round curve.
Zhao Meimei stared at him intently while he talked on the phone, occasionally seeing his eyes squint unconsciously, his lips pressed tight. His side profile was as handsome as a sculpture, and as she watched, she inexplicably felt a bit of sadness in her heart.
She turned around, her gaze drifting past numerous diners and landing on Zhang Xin, who was not far away conversing with Qu Chaozong.
