"Wen Qiao, you know, I'm so jealous of you." Lin Ruochun's voice choked up in the recording and she continued, "I spent the afternoon with you at the mall, and Brother Jinghen said you could buy whatever you wanted and that I should accompany you. He even offered to reimburse me. Why don't I have such a great fiancé, wah—"
"Also, you scared me before and even snapped at me on set. I felt so wronged, wah—"
"You don't even—"
Before the recording could finish playing, Lin Ruochun, who had been petrified from the first sentence, finally broke free and pounced like a tiger seizing its prey, snatching Wen Qiao's phone. Wen Qiao didn't even think of dodging; it was grabbed from her in an instant.
Lin Ruochun frantically pressed the pause button, then deleted the recording, and finally, locked the screen and stuffed the phone under her buttocks, her whole face red as a cooked shrimp.
"And you recorded it! How despicable!"
