"This method is good." Gu Qingheng laughed, stretching his arm to wrap around Yang Ruxin's waist.
"Why are you hugging me when no one is watching?" Yang Ruxin swatted his hand away, "It would be indecent to do this on the street."
"I'm just practicing in advance," Gu Qingheng tightened his embrace, "I'm holding my own wife, who can say anything about it?"
"Fine, you're beautiful so you're right." Yang Ruxin nodded helplessly.
At that moment, in the room opposite to the one they were just in, a man dressed in black sat by a table with a gloomy face. The table was laid with food and drinks, but although he held a wine cup, he had no desire to drink. His mind was filled with the intimate images of Yang Ruxin and Gu Qingheng, which he found increasingly irritating.
Suddenly, there was a crack, and the wine cup in his hand shattered into pieces.