An Yuan smiled again. It was a smile that came from the bottom of her heart. Ignoring Xue Zhen, she turned to her assistant. "Help me bring my coat over."
The assistant nodded. "Alright!"
She already felt sorry for this little sister, who was wearing so little in this weather that was several degrees below zero. However, Xue Zhen, that old witch, did not feel sorry at all. It had made the assistant anxious.
The health of an artist was very important. How could it compare to a few photos taken by a reporter?
The assistant quickly brought over a warm coat for An Yuan, and Xue Zhen rolled her eyes.
Xue Zhan had long realized that An Yuan was no longer willing to listen to her. She had repeatedly tried to persuade An Yuan to ignore Su Shengjing and wait until she was 30 years old before thinking about love, but An Yuan refused to listen.