"Vermilion Bird's coffee house, it's right here."
"This place?" Song Yun glanced at the coffee house that seemed to have a bit of a petty bourgeois vibe and asked.
"Yep, come on in." Qingluan led the way, opened the door, and then Song Yun followed her inside.
Inside the coffee house, there were only two people, one was a tyrant, and the other, obviously not an ordinary person, was wearing a high-slit cheongsam with a cigarette pinched in her hand. If Song Yun hadn't known in advance that this woman was nearly forty this year, he would have thought she was a young housewife.
"You just can't get rid of the bumpkin in you for the rest of your life." The woman looked at the tyrant with a bit of disdain.
