Wang Xiaoliang returned to his seat, Wei Zijin's concerned gaze following his movements.
"It's nothing. My dad wanted to send me some money. He was worried I wouldn't have enough for a wedding gift."
"That's so nice." As she spoke, she involuntarily slipped her hand into Wang Xiaoliang's.
"So how much are we giving? Really just nine yuan?"
"Just nine. My dad said respect matters most."
"That's so nice!" Wei Zijin repeated the same words.
"Don't overthink it. Isn't my dad your dad too?"
Wang Xiaoliang knew Wei Zijin was thinking of her late father, so he interrupted her thoughts.
"Oh, stop!"
Their table still consisted of the same group who had flown in together.
But he soon discovered that the mood at the table had completely changed since he left.
Zeng Haiyan, sitting beside Wei Zijin, wasn't as lively as she had been yesterday. She barely spoke, but her eyes kept darting in one direction.
Needless to say, she was looking at Fan Qishan.
She was still hung up on what Fan Qishan had said to her.
And she wasn't the only one.
Chen Xiaoying, on the other side, was the same. She was saying something to Zhao Shengkai, but she was clearly distracted, her gaze constantly drifting toward Fan Qishan, whether deliberately or otherwise.
Fan Qishan really was beautiful.
Not handsome, but beautiful. His features and even the shape of his head were exceptionally fine.
Above all, there were those clear eyes.
Wang Xiaoliang asked Fan Qishan a question.
"Qishan, I want to write a piece of calligraphy for Liu Xinyu's dad. What do you think I should write?"
"Whatever."
"Qishan, I'm asking seriously. I'm not joking."
"I'm always serious."
Only then did Wang Xiaoliang realize that Fan Qishan meant he should write the two characters for "whatever."