At 8:30 in the evening, Li Qiao was drinking and chatting with Su Moshi near the scenic window of the executive lounge.
The lounge wasn't very crowded, with small groups of people gathered together, chatting and laughing merrily.
The atmosphere wasn't noisy. Accompanied by the elegant piano music played by the pianist, the dimly lit lounge was shrouded in a deep, mysterious haze.
At that moment, Su Moshi was fiddling with a scalpel that had special golden edges. His arm rested on the edge of the table, and he remarked with some surprise, "I'm really curious about what kind of man could catch your eye."
Li Qiao leaned lazily against the back of her chair, her long legs crossed in front of her, "You'll see him tomorrow at noon."
She rubbed her phone, occasionally glancing down at it, subtly furrowing her brows without making a sound.
Half an hour earlier, she had sent a message to Shang Yu, inviting him to have lunch with her and Su Moshi the next day.