He was dressed in a sharply tailored black suit, with every button fastened neatly. He looked like a male model who stepped straight out of a magazine cover.
He was tall and emanated a sense of security.
Ye Fanxing said, "Uncle."
Fu Jingyu walked up to her, reached out his hand to her, and Ye Fanxing naturally held his large hand, leading him toward the private room.
"Did Ye Fanxing run away? It wouldn't kill her husband to show up."
"Stop rubbing salt in her wound. It's not like she chose to marry a man who's bound to a wheelchair. And besides, I've heard that the man is quite old. She probably had no choice."
As the people in the private room continued to gossip, Ye Fanxing, hand in hand with Fu Jingyu, walked in, and the whole room fell into silence instantly.
The weather lately had been gentle. Ye Fanxing that day wore a very feminine white skirt that reached her knees, styled freshly and simply.