Mengxin was indeed piqued by Nie Guangyi's words.
She lifted her gaze, which had retracted the brilliance of the night sky, to look at Nie Guangyi.
After a long while, she heard four words from this man who deliberately sparked curiosity—Nomad Coffee.
Mengxin wanted to speak, then held back, held back, then wanted to speak.
"What?" Nie Guangyi asked.
"Nothing much... it's just that Nomad Coffee sounds even less formal than Fishing Coffee."
"The responsibility of a genius is to turn the informal into formal, the non-official into official, the impossible into possible," Nie Guangyi boasted about himself, never with any ambiguity.
"Well then, I'll be watching with keen interest," Mengxin replied, smiling at Nie Guangyi.
That smile, colorful and pure, was like the spring breeze of April, blowing open a tree full of cherry blossoms.
The petals that fluttered down were not even a ten-thousandth as lovely as the girl's smile.
...
"Ladies and gentlemen, friends from the press,"