Fu Jinghen looked at the tightly closed study door, waited a few seconds, and when he saw that Wen Qiao wasn't coming back, he picked up the phone next to him and opened the group chat with a row of ellipses.
[Fu Jinghen: Wen Qiao is angry, what should I do?]
[Huo Mutian: Stay calm, let her be angry, ignore her. The angrier she is today, the happier she'll be tomorrow.]
[Qin Xiang: Yes, you must hold on, always remember to suppress first and then elevate, don't ruin the plan.]
[Fu Jinghen: ...]
He inexplicably felt that these two people's suggestions were somewhat unreliable.
-
Fu Jinghen was acting strange, really strange.
Wen Qiao sat on the small sofa in the bedroom with her arms crossed, carefully recalling every word Fu Jinghen had just said, every expression he had made, extremely cold, completely unlike his usual joy when he saw her like a dog seeing a bone.
