Mu Chengxi sat down beside Wen Xin, his gaze falling on her injured hand. His brows, which had just eased, furrowed again.
"Why haven't you taken care of your hand?"
"I'll deal with it after we eat. It's just a little scrape." Wen Xin glanced indifferently at the wound on her hand and handed a skewer to Mu Chengxi.
She thought Mu Chengxi would ask who she had fought with, but it seemed that Mu Chengxi already knew what had happened in the parking lot.
Taking a sip of the hot and sour soup from the clay pot, Wen Xin turned to Mu Chengxi. "Do you have a source in that racetrack?"
"No, but someone who knows you saw you and told me. He was worried that you won money from Qian Meng and might not easily leave the racetrack."
Mu Chengxi already knew about the money-winning incident. Since Mu Chengxi probably knew about the racing and fighting as well, it saved Wen Xin from having to explain when they got home.