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Looking at Zhong Qing, who was dressed in a soft pink silk cheongsam and exuded the grace and elegance of a classical beauty as if she had stepped out of a painting, Shen Mingzhu couldn't hide her surprise on her face.
"Miss Zhong."
Zhong Qing approached her, her light brown eyes that resembled a cat's shimmering with mirth, "I caught a fleeting glimpse of you as I was passing by and had the driver stop the car. As I walked over from there, I was thinking it would be embarrassing if I mistook someone else for you. Luckily, it really was you."
Upon hearing what Zhong Qing said, Shen Mingzhu finally noticed that a cream-colored Bentley was parked about fifty meters ahead by the road.
Tsk, the evils of capitalism, truly something to envy, jeer at, and hate.
Zhong Qing looked at the crabapple tree in front of her, "Is there something special about this crabapple tree? You've been looking at it for five minutes from when I saw you to when I got out of the car and walked over."