Su Ziceng did not notice the bright orange light beside Yan Wuxu's ear. Her whole mind was still reflecting on Yan Wuxu's words.
"I don't pity you, and you don't need my pity, remember? I warned you a long time ago not to provoke people like Fei Qing." Hearing her words, Su Ziceng felt even more at peace. She wasn't good at comforting people, but she could try to listen to Yan Wuxu's confessions.
The jagged rose leaves rustled, and in the midst of the green, Yan Wuxu's eyes shimmered with a cold light. "Your warning should be reserved for the rich guys like you." She yanked up a bunch of rose bushes, her fingers turning pale amidst the green leaves and red flowers.
