A villa somewhere in Jiangnan.
Shen Bowen held a cup of wine in his hand, standing in front of the floor-length window, lost in thought.
At this moment, a slim hand reached out and laid on Shen Bowen's chest, fixing his clothes.
"Bowen, you seem troubled. What's wrong?"
Shen Bowen drank all the wine in his cup, his gaze fell on the maple tree outside the window, and he seemed a bit absent-minded. He didn't answer, but the woman obviously noticed a hint of cold light in his eyes.
"Are you worried about your brother's issues?" The woman tentatively asked.
Because right after Shen Hong called earlier, Shen Bowen's face had changed, indicating that something bad must have happened.
"No, it's not just that." Shen Bowen finally spoke, and his voice was deep, unusually charming, like a man with a naturally low-pitched voice.