Mo Shichen stood on the balcony and watched the white Bentley drive out of the manor. He held the phone in his hand, his expression faint, and he turned and went downstairs until the car completely disappeared from sight.
At half past eight in the evening, the study.
The man sits in the chair behind the desk, leaning back slightly, the notebook on the desk is open, but his gaze is fixed on the mobile phone beside him, his eyes are hanging down as if thinking.
Suddenly, he moved, looking across the time on the notebook screen, then got up, walked to the window and stood for a while, looking down at the lights in the distance, standing for about a few minutes before turning back to the desk. , Picked up the phone, opened the address book after unlocking it with a fingerprint, and clicked on the word “Mrs.”
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