When Jing De woke up again, he found he was in a dilapidated factory.
He was bound tightly by ropes.
In front of him, Qin Chu was leaning on the wall, smoking.
In the chilly night, Qin Chu only wore a black long-sleeved shirt and the diamonds inlaid on the cuffs glittered in the darkness; he was thinking with his head lowered.
The long fingers holding the cigarette were well-shaped.
Huo Mian had once complained that her husband's hands were more beautiful than hers.
"Chu… Why did you…" Jing De began meekly.
"Shut up."
Qin Chu looked up and a chilly light flashed across his eyes.
How dare this bastard call him Chu? He had no right.
If he was the real Uncle Jing, it was fine. But this guy was an impostor, a weirdo from nowhere.
"Why did you take me here?" Jing De continued to play dumb with a silly smile.
If Qin Chu was another person, he might be tricked.
But Qin Chu wasn't an ordinary person.
