Lin Shiyu's pretty eyes narrowed. It was actually him. Fu Qinglun.
So the founder and big boss of Yi Foundation turned out to be him.
Today Fu Qinglun was wearing a tailored white shirt and black trousers with a tie around his neck. He was wearing an impeccably-pressed black suit which had nary a crease on it, and he looked spectacularly handsome and polished.
He was holding a document in his hand and he strode ahead, with his personal assistant and the top management of Yi Foundation following behind him. He exuded the impressive presence of a big boss.
"Wow, he's so handsome." The young artistes were completely and utterly mesmerized.
Tang Mo'er pulled Lin Shiyu and said in a soft voice, "Shiyu, look. It's Mr Smithson."
But Lin Shiyu's countenance remained impassive and she did not say a word. When Fu Qinglun walked over, he did not look at them.
"Shiyu, what happened between you and Mr Smithson. He didn't even look at you."
