"President Fu's food choices could never be bad, could they? I don't care, if you see it, you share it." Song Qian wasn't giving up and continued to raise his hand.
"Fine."
Wen Qiao glanced at Lin Ruochun, who was seating next to Song Qian with her back to her, walked up to her, and tousled her hair a bit, "I'm leaving now, you two leave some room in your stomachs."
Song Qian waved at her, "Bye."
-
Fu Jinghen's car was parked in the same spot as it was that morning, and Wen Qiao spotted it right away.
She jogged over, got into the car, and found Fu Jinghen on a business call with Feng Li.
Wen Qiao didn't interrupt him, fastened her seat belt, and started flipping through her phone.
It wasn't long before Fu Jinghen hung up the phone.
"What do you feel like eating?"
Wen Qiao's eyes twirled, and just as she was about to open her mouth, Fu Jinghen, as if he had anticipated her thoughts, said, "Forget about hot pot, fried chicken, barbecue, and the like."
"...."
