Around seven o'clock in the evening, Wang Zijing got off work and returned home. She was wearing Qin Baobao's office uniform—there was no helping it; it was a company requirement. When Wang Zijing had run away from home, she had only brought a few changes of clothes. She was too embarrassed to spend Qin Baobao's money, and office wear and suits were the same sort of thing—luxury goods among clothing. Cheap ones looked too tacky, and people had sharp eyes. They could tell at a glance if you were wearing an office outfit that cost only a few hundred yuan. Qin Baobao's suit was from Only. It wasn't cheap, over thirty thousand yuan a set, but it didn't fit Wang Zijing very well. Qin Baobao was taller than her, and her chest was bigger too...
The moment she stepped into the entryway, she smelled the fragrance of Qin Ze's cooking.
Though Wang Zijing appeared gentle and was cold at heart, she felt an inexplicable warmth inside, a faint smile curling her lips.
This feeling was wonderful—coming home from work to find someone waiting for you with dinner ready.
This home was very small, just over eighty square meters, with only two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a balcony. Compared with her own home, which could practically be called a mansion and kept idlers out, it was hardly worth mentioning.
But it was warm here. There was her open-minded, easygoing, guileless bestie, and there was the mature, steady boy who liked to peep at her.
Here, there were no burdens and no scheming. She did not need to wear a mask. She could laugh, curse, and relax as she pleased.
She liked this place. She liked the people here. She liked her bestie, and she also liked...