He's Dead
Lin Youchu ran up to Jiang Che, her chest still heaving slightly.
She carefully handed the dustproof garment bag she had been clutching tightly to her chest over to Jiang Che.
"Sir..."
Lin Youchu gently pressed her bloodless lips together and murmured, "Your suit... I washed it by hand for you..."
"I ironed it smooth inside and out, without leaving a single crease."
"Now... now I'm returning it to you. I'm truly very sorry about that night."
As she spoke, she bowed deeply, fully displaying the humility and politeness ingrained in a girl from the bottom of society.
Jiang Che reached out and took the garment bag.
His sharp brows furrowed slightly as he discreetly sized up the girl before him, who had her neck tucked in like a quail.
Today, Lin Youchu wore an ordinary plain white short-sleeved T-shirt. Its collar had yellowed slightly and begun to pill, clearly the sort of cheap leftover stock sold three for ten yuan at a night market stall.
She paired it with skinny jeans that had been washed pale, with even the knees worn through, and a pair of flat canvas shoes whose soles were already coming apart at the edges.
Everything she wore from head to toe probably did not add up to more than fifty yuan...
Combined with her thick, oversized black-rimmed glasses and the long bangs deliberately hiding most of her face, no matter how one looked at her, she was merely an unremarkable, shabby female college student who would disappear into any crowd.
Who in this world could have imagined that beneath that poor and timid exterior was such a flawless, peerlessly beautiful face—one capable of driving every man in the world mad!
She was the very pinnacle of innocent sensuality, an exquisite little white flower