"I don't need your fake concern here; you can leave." Beitang Yao's knuckles were white, and his tone was very cold as he reached for the cigarette box, wanting to take out a cigar.
But Xia Qingqian grabbed it away, firmly saying to Beitang Yao, "Young Master, don't you know smoking can trigger asthma?" He had just adjusted his breathing, so why was he thinking about smoking again? Is this how he treats his body?
"Give it back!" Beitang Yao shouted angrily, suddenly bouncing up from his chair, grabbing Xia Qingqian's wrist and lifting it up to his chest. His gaze remained as cold and grim as ever, but now it held a hint of sorrow.
What exactly was he worried about?
