Her eyes were cold as she reproached him, "What do you mean, bringing me home only to be all over me?"
As she spoke, their gazes locked.
Zhou Luchen caressed her temples and said slowly, "Don't play dumb. Haven't my actions been obvious enough?"
Shen Jing simply watched him.
He wasn't the type to be idle. Nor was she foolish. She could see what he had been doing lately.
In Manhattan, at the manor, flying back to the country to see her, giving red envelopes, walking with her the whole way, carrying her back to the courtyard house.
A noble young master, raised in luxury—perhaps this was his way of pursuing someone, limited to what he was willing to do.
Bowing her head, Shen Jing's fingers hooked Zhou Luchen's bathrobe sash, pulling it tighter for him in an attempt to appear composed.
