Meng Yao followed the voice and saw a thin man, who was out of place compared to those around him.
His eyes were deep, his lips thin, and his face cold and aloof.
A word popped into Meng Yao's mind: the high mountain flower.
The kind that doesn't partake in worldly affairs.
Logically speaking, such a person would disdain meddling in others' business.
But this person, unexpectedly, got involved.
The young man looked puzzled at the man, clearly not understanding what he meant.
"Sir, what do you mean?" The young man hesitated, probably not sure how to address this person, stammered for a while, and finally settled on "sir," thinking it was the most fitting.
"Literal meaning," the man said in a cold tone.
The young man was a bit taken aback; the man didn't seem like someone who spoke nonsense, so did this mean the strong and burly man had ill intentions?
