The man strode toward the dining table. He pulled out a chair—the legs shrieked against the floor—and he threw himself heavily into it. He rested one hand casually on the table, leaned back, and stretched out his long legs, looking thoroughly bored.
The angle at which Quan Ying sat was quite peculiar. He was positioned directly across from the kitchen entrance. His gaze was fixed on An Xiaoni, who stood by the counter, busy washing dishes, wiping surfaces, and tidying up. The small figure in the apron, flitting back and forth in that cramped space, looked both diligent and, for some reason, pathetic to him.
*Tsk!* There it was again—that feeling. When had he ever been this soft-hearted toward a woman? And to feel it over and over again for the same person? It was madness. A sudden wave of irritation washed over him.
Chapter 36