Feng Yueming gave her a deep look and then strode upstairs, "If you want to talk, come to my room."
Mi Yao immediately asked with guarded caution, "What for, going to your room?"
Feng Yueming stopped his steps on the stairs and looked back at her, a smirk lifting his lips, "You can also choose not to come."
He went straight into the room.
Mi Yao was so angry she felt like vomiting blood. This man was unbearable, giving her no choice at all.
With no other option, she went upstairs.
...
As soon as she entered the room, Mi Yao heard the sound of rushing water from the shower—he was taking a bath.
She glanced around the room, feeling a strange sense of familiarity; after all, she had lived here for a while. Remembering the past, she dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand, reminding herself that the past was behind her, and from now on, she needed to look forward.
This man was not worth it.
