"Makes sense."
Mu Qiu took a sip of water, lowered her eyelashes, and her gaze swept across Cheng Zhirang's long legs wrapped in suit pants, then slowly returned, taking another sip of water.
Her mind was filled with other things, unable to think autonomously. As long as he spoke, it made sense.
The bank was quiet, and the air conditioning was set to very low.
Cheng Zhirang's hair on his forehead, which was damp from competing with Shi Yuhuai for stickers earlier, had already dried. Mu Qiu snapped back to reality, feeling a bit cold.
She was wearing only a tank top, with a large portion of her skin exposed, and the cold wind started to give her goosebumps.
"Are you feeling a bit cold?"
Cheng Zhirang suddenly asked.
It wasn't abrupt or startling; a voice like that, with that tone, would only sound pleasant.
Mu Qiu met his questioning gaze, paused for a moment, then nodded, "A little."
