Staring at the single, icy-cold word—"Scram"—Lin Chu didn't reply. He just shook his head and smiled.
He didn't really mind Zhou Luan's attitude, though.
She was flustered.
In truth, Lin Chu could still sense that Zhou Luan had feelings for him—something akin to one of those pacts: 'If you're not married by thirty, and I'm not married either, let's just settle for each other.'
Her feelings weren't any less than that, but they weren't any more, either.
'It's mainly because of my playboy nature,' he thought. 'Any normal girl would find it impossible to accept, unless she were a pure gold digger. And of course, I wouldn't be interested in that type anyway.'
'And wanting me to change? That's absolutely impossible.'
'A man is a boy until the day he dies!'
'Always a fan of eighteen-year-olds!'
