Jiang Qingli was lifted up and placed on the seat.
Setting the window to one-way, Qin Muye braced his hands on either side of her. His tall frame cast a shadow, enveloping her completely.
The silver-haired young man pursed his lips, glanced at Jiang Qingli, and then lowered his head again.
Qin Muye was very handsome, but overly cold. His features were sharp and defined, and when he furrowed his brow, he looked like he was about to rob someone.
If anyone else had seen this scene, they'd have probably called the police.
But only Jiang Qingli knew that when Qin Muye had picked her up and set her down just now, his movements had been both clumsy and gentle.
Jiang Qingli wasn't scared at all. Leaning against the wall, she raised an eyebrow. "What is it you want to tell me? If you don't say it, I'm leaving—"
As she spoke, she made to stand up.
Qin Muye grew anxious. He propped a hand beside her, his breathing a little unsteady.
