Jiang Ruolan immediately sensed something was wrong. She turned and looked at Xian Zihao.
If her memory was correct, Xian Zihao had always been calm and collected. Although his expression hadn't changed, with her sixth sense, she knew that he knew the woman at the door.
The car didn't stop, passing by the plaza like an arrow detached from a bowstring.
Jiang Ruolan no longer turned to look. She only looked at the blurry figure of the woman through the side mirror. A strange feeling of confusion arose in her heart.
Although she did not know who the woman was, from Xian Zihao's behavior, he had answered her question. He knew who that woman was, but he was pretending he didn't know her.
It was as if she was a stranger that he had never seen before.
As if she was a stranger waiting to ask for help.
As if this was a common occurrence.
Jiang Ruolan did not plan to say anything about it.
