Her gaze had just landed on his face when Yao Qing's expression instantly changed.
It was a subconscious reaction, one she couldn't control.
It was already evening, and the dim yellow lights were on in the corridor, decorated with Cupid's Arrow.
The light hung above his head, wrapping him in a layer of haze-like blur; this wasn't a no-smoking area, so he bit on a cigarette butt, glancing down at his phone, the dark suit draped over his shoulders, appearing like a decadent second-generation rich man from the Republic of China era smoking opium, yet irresistibly drawing glances.
At first, when Yao Qing bumped into him, he didn't look up at her.
It was later, when Yao Qing remained silent, that he lazily lifted his eyes to glance at her.
And just like that, their eyes met.
Just so happens.
Yao Qing stood still for a long time, and Yanshen showed no change.
After a while, Yao Qing finally averted her gaze, bending to pick up her sunglasses.
