“Have you given up?” Han Qilu sneers at her as he shuts the screen on his laptop.
She opens her eyes slowly. Without looking at Han Qilu, she asks the driver nicely, “Shushu, may I trouble you to open the window? It seems to be locked.”
The driver respectfully nods and presses a button. Her side of the window slowly rolls down. The cool evening air feels refreshing against her neck. Her body starts relaxing.
An Chuxia, you can not be angry with him.
“Hey! Are you listening to me?” Han Qilu’s
tone is filled with anger.
Her gaze falls from the view beyond the window to the person next to her. He is painfully handsome, like a fairy tale prince. It’s just a shame his temper is atrocious.
“No. I choose not to give up,” she answers with a cordial smile. Her response doesn’t change his disposition. Perhaps, if she learns the art of being still, he won’t see her as an inconvenience.
Besides, she doesn’t have a reason to give up. What’s there to give up? She can’t tell An Chen Chuan
Chuan the letter got ripped and was blown away. He can personally tell her the contents of the letter!
An Chen Chuan, where did you get the nerve to write that?
He looks at An Chuxia nonchalantly. He can’t be upset because he doesn’t know what she means. Why won’t she give up?
He is puzzled with her behavior. She refuses to answer his question. He shoots her a look to make her squirm.
“I haven’t given up,” she chants. “I’ll call and ask him. It doesn’t matter. I know this won’t bother you.”
She
bother you.”
She can see his guilt eating him from within. Qilu abruptly swivels his head toward her. He wants to throw her out of the car.
The car passes through the Han family gates. Halfway into the cobbled road, the car stops. Steward Han rushes to the front of the car before opening the door from Qilu’s side. Another housekeeper runs quickly to Chuxia’s side and opens the door for her.
She’s still not used to this kind of treatment.
She starts walking away when suddenly, she remembers the stack of books she left books she left in the car.
“Miss Xia, let me.” The housekeeper who waited on her takes the books. She gives up and lets her take them.
Han Qilu, who was walking in front of her, suddenly stops and pivots.
He stares at An Chuxia’s eyes. “An Chuxia, don’t dare ask what’s in that letter. Otherwise, you’ll die.”
He spits the sentence through gritted teeth. He is seething.
“Why?” She innocently blinks at Han Qilu.
He looks down on her. “Because it’s my command as the young master. Did you forget? You’re just my maid.”