Summary:
<blockquote>“She doesn’t like you like that,” comes Luo Binghe’s voice, so irritating that Liu Qingge’s face sours up like they’ve bitten a lemon. They direct a wintry glare at Luo Binghe, whose chair has been scooted as close to Shen Yuan’s empty one as possible in her momentary absence. Luo Binghe smiles beatifically at them, drawing her finger slowly in a circle around the rim of Shen Yuan’s finished drink- then raising it to her mouth and sucking the lingering wetness off her finger, pulling it out with a graphic pop.</blockquote>
