She seized every opportunity to get close to Yun Mo, showering him with concern yet keeping him at arm's length, all while maintaining a nonchalant expression.
Had it been any other man, he probably wouldn't have lasted long.
But Yun Mo was no ordinary man. He wasn't even human.
Finally, as Meng Qingtan "accidentally" twisted her ankle and tried to walk away as if nothing had happened, he spoke.
"If I recall correctly, this is the fourth time. You should go to the hospital. Making a habit of spraining your ankle isn't a good thing."
It sounded less like a suggestion and more like a cold command.
Meng Qingtan stiffened slightly, then turned to him with a smile. "...You're right. I don't know why, but I keep twisting my ankle lately."
The noble, abstinent man lowered his long lashes, his voice cold and magnetic.
"If there's nothing else, get out."
'What is an art director doing hanging around my office all the time for no reason? Is she sick in the head?'
