"Miss Zhuang?" Zhuang Yuezhou was taken aback, then growled with gritted teeth, "Qiao Weilan, are you trying to infuriate me to death?"
"Why are you so hot-tempered?" Weilan responded coolly, "Got a hormone imbalance or something?"
"Cough, cough, cough—" Zhuang Yuezhou almost choked to death on his soup.
He glanced at Weilan, then turned his gaze to Qiao Jingchen.
Weilan found it amusing; Zhuang Yuezhou, in this state, was like a sulking little wife, and rather cute at that.
Seeing Zhuang Yuezhou glower at him, Qiao Jingchen spoke up, "Why are you looking at me?"
Zhuang Yuezhou: "...."
Qiao Jingchen continued to eat, his manner unhurried, not showing a hint of rush.
Zhuang Yuezhou stuffed a mouthful of food into his mouth and blurted out, "Let's eat and then leave."
Consequently, a strange dining method ensued around the table: no one spoke, just bowed their heads and ate in silence.
Until a deep male voice broke the tense atmosphere, "Good morning, everyone."