The last time Sheng Jianan took Shen Yao back, he only stopped the car at the entrance of the neighborhood. This time, since Shen Yao's foot was inconvenient, Sheng Jianan parked the car directly downstairs of the apartment building.
He opened the door, got out of the car, and picked Shen Yao up again: "Which floor?"
"Seventeen."
Sheng Jianan's gaze showed no emotion, as if he was just doing a job.
They went up to the seventeenth floor. Shen Yao opened the door and went inside. Sheng Jianan sat on the sofa, his eyes casually scanning the room. The simple and bright decoration style was his kind of style.
"Jianan, sorry to trouble you. I'm not convenient to entertain you right now, please make yourself comfortable."
Shen Yao placed her medicated foot on the coffee table, maintaining her usual gentle demeanor.
However, Sheng Jianan did not hurry to leave. Instead, he sat down next to her: "Weren't you afraid of being hit just now?"
