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How Could Lin Nuan Ask About the Issue?

編輯: Atlas Studios

The men's talk was blunt without a care in the world.

Lu Jinnan wasn't the type to meddle in his friend's business. The reason he repeatedly tried to convince Fu Huai'an to give up on Lin Nuan was that he himself had seen Tang Zheng move all the way to America because of a rocky relationship—and he was worried for Fu Huai'an.

"If you have so much free time, there's no need to do so much research on a woman. Maybe you can think about how you're going to converse with Huanyu's boss." Fu Huai'an flicked his cigarette, his tone not changing one bit.

Lu Jinnan shut his mouth knowingly at Fu Huai'an's response.

"If there's nothing else, you can leave to finish your work first."

Lin Nuan shut her eyes in the car but her ears were still listening.

After some time, Fu Huai'an walked over to the car door.

"Tap tap tap—"

She heard the sound of knuckles gently knocking against the glass window.

Lin Nuan hands tensed as she looked up, unable to fake a sleepy appearance.

She looked at Fu Huai'an with clear eyes through the glass window. Her head dropped down sheepishly as she grabbed her square purse and Fu Huai'an's suit while gesturing that she was about to open the door.

Fu Huai'an took a step back and walked back to their condo first. He keyed in the password for the door's passcode lock.

Lin Nuan got off the car. As she locked the car door, she hesitated.

She originally intended to wait outside and let Fu Huai'an bring out her identity card.

But there was no way she could bring herself to ask him that. It would sound as if Wen Moshen's return was what made her decide not to collect their marriage certificate anymore—like she was kicking Fu Huai'an to the curb when he had outlived his usefulness.

Lin Nuan did intend to keep certain promises, but for a matter with such significance like collecting the certificate, it was very difficult for her to ask when Fu Huai'an didn't bring it up again at all.

Fu Huai'an's suit was still in her arms and she still had the keys. She collected herself and entered the door together with him.

Fu Huai'an took off his vest as he entered the door, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbow, revealing his built, muscular arms.

He loosened a few buttons near his shirt collar. Standing in front of the fridge, he grabbed a bottle of water, tilted his head up and took a few sips, his Adam's apple gliding underneath the collar. He looked manlier than ever.

Lin Nuan stood there in silence after she switched into her slippers.

"Your identity card is in the master bedroom upstairs, right on the table…" Fu Huai'an closed the refrigerator door, his calm eyes turning to Lin Nuan as he said, "You can find the master bedroom, right?"

Of course, she could find it. She didn't know if she was being too suspicious, but she felt Fu Huai'an had ulterior motives when he said "master bedroom"—as if he wanted to remind her of the night of their interaction right there.

Fu Huai'an simply stated it with a straight face. If Lin Nuan kept acting weird about it it would make her look overly sensitive.

She placed his suit on the sofa arm and the car keys on the table. She stated, "Then… I'll go get my identity card."

"Okay." Fu Huai'an looked up.

Watching Lin Nuan go upstairs, Fu Huai'an put down the bottle and unhurriedly lit up a cigarette. Once again, he narrowed his eyes in the smoke and moved the eye-catching identity card on the dressing table to the top of the refrigerator,

On the second floor.

As she entered the bedroom, Lin Nuan's ears burned when she saw the huge bed with its gray bed sheets on it. She directed her eyes towards the table with the identity card on it. She was feeling so guilty that she only wanted to leave asap. Without even taking a proper look, she snatched the card, shoved it in her bag and took off.

Fu Huai'an sat on the sofa downstairs biting the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. He was reading a document in his hands while angrily scolding somebody on the phone in his deep voice, giving off an imposing impression.

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