With less than half an hour left for the shoot, Xia Yu was starting to feel restless. The photographer was also frequently glancing at the door, creating a tense atmosphere throughout the studio. They never thought they'd encounter problems during this shoot. From the photographer's pay to the props and studio, everything represented a significant expense.
In the midst of this anxiety, only Qiao Xiaren sat relaxed on a chair, casually flipping through a book titled Five Thousand Years.
Abby, of course, was exceedingly confident in her idol, thus she diligently brought tea and water. Xia Yu's lips twitched in annoyance, as if there was a single word written all over Abby's face: sycophantic.
Five minutes passed.
Four minutes passed.
Three minutes passed.
Still, no one came—
Xia Yu started to get irritable. Yet, every time he saw Qiao Xiaren's beautiful face, he found himself inexplicably unable to utter a curse.