Hearing the words, Chase’s brows condensed, making the beige that lies across the mountains and rivers across the screen tremble, and he dared not speak with his lips pressed.
Chase’s face was cold for a moment, then frowned thoughtfully, “Phyllis Technical Exchange Conference…”
Thinking of something, he looked at the computer screen, looked at Beige and asked: “Did you receive such an invitation letter last month?”
Beige nodded, “Yes, but boss you refused.”
Chase glanced at the time displayed on the lower right corner of the computer, and told Beige: “You go to make arrangements, I will be there at night.”
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