Zong Yue turned her face away blankly, a kind of indescribable emotion fermenting and churning in her chest.
What happened to Li Jun?
Not only can he say sweet words, but he also knows how to be flexible now.
Zong Yue couldn't help but look back at Li Jun. The collar of his white shirt was slightly open, the cuffs rolled up to his forearms, making him look less serious and more elegant and casual.
About ten minutes later, Li Jun suggested going home.
Zong Yue looked at the dishes on the table, her heart softening, and said gently, "Are the dishes not to your taste? You haven't eaten much."
"Not hungry." Li Jun pinched his temples, fatigue clouding his brow, "Let's go home."
Zong Yue pursed her lips, absentmindedly standing up with him.
She couldn't figure out where Li Jun's change came from; was it just because of the recent cold war?
