The one who spoke was Yue Xiang’s son, Yue Yiming, who had just returned from abroad.
Yue Yiming’s appearance was not as upright as Yue Xiang’s, but as Leng Yunfeng’s. His deep and three-dimensional facial features were more elegant than a woman’s.
He leaned against the sofa and casually crossed his long legs. His aura was elegant and warm. On his left wrist, he wore a string of emerald-green Buddhist beads. It was very eye-catching.
In addition to his snow-white and pure white suit, he was handsome and clear as if he had descended from the heavens.
It had to be said that the son and daughter that Leng Yunfeng had given birth to for Yue Xiang were both extraordinary in appearance and temperament. Ordinary people could not compare to them.
When Yue Xiang heard this, he snorted lightly. “You’re messing around too? !”
