Leng Youchen looked at her, slightly curled his lips, "I want you to feed me."
Wei Anning kept a straight face, "Sorry, I love my job more, and I currently have no plans to become involved with my boss."
"No problem. Even if you get involved with me, it won't affect your job. It might actually boost your career prospects." The man continued the conversation, just wanting to hear her voice. Even if she was angry, it was pleasant to hear.
Like a yellow oriole in a secluded valley, melodious and touching.
Wei Anning sneered, "Leng Youchen, I hate sickly men. Looking at your frail physique, I'm really not interested in getting involved with you."
Despite her words, when she saw his sick appearance, she couldn't help feeling sorry. He had a high fever all morning and drank so much, his stomach must be uncomfortable. She got up, walked to the bed, picked up the hangover soup, and went into the bathroom to pour it out.
