What Must He Be Thinking Of Me?
Ming Baozhai could feel an ominous stare from each of his sides, on his right Chan Zian held an ominous glare, as he openly stared at Hao-Yu.
On his left, Hao-Yu in turn glared at Chan Zian, as he chopped some carrots he brought along.
The director didn't understand what propelled this animosity between both men, and found it hard to raise his spoon to his lips.
A nervous line of sweat ran across the side of his neck, as Chan Zian cleared his throat to speak.
"You're the housekeeper I suppose?" He flat out asked, startling Hao-Yu by his crude tone, which did not match his delicate features.
"House keeper? Don't you think it's rude to make those kinds of assumptions? You look more suited to be a house keeper." Hao-Yu retorted sharply.
"Haa? Ming Baozhai, this housekeeper has such a loose tongue? And he doesn't look like he can do much work." Chan Zian noted, assessing Hao-Yu from head to toe.