From Qi Sinian’s point of view, the tips of Zhong Xiran’s ears flushed a delicate pink, like a summer sunset over Beicheng.
Zhong Xiran was so mortified she wished the floor would swallow her whole.
She reached for the briefcase in his hand, mumbling sheepishly, “No, I wasn't calling for you.”
Perhaps because it was snowing and cold outside, the briefcase felt as if it were coated in a thin layer
















