Dear Mr. Shi

Song Qinghuan looked upset, and replied: "It's nothing, our manager has something to ask for me. I want to go back to the company and have an email to send to my manager."

The file was stored in the company's computer, and if it was sent to Zhao Jingnan again, it could only be returned to the company.

The regulations are not happy anymore, and his face turns dark: "What's the matter, I have to go back to work after work."

Song Qinghuan said helplessly: "There's no way. This is my job. It's all like this when I go to work. The boss is God. You can do whatever he says. You have to do what he wants you to do.

The regulations gave a disdainful "chik", and suddenly a small smile bloomed at the corner of his mouth.

He looked at Song Qinghuan with deep love in his eyes, and said with a smile: "Huanhuan, then don't do it, marry me, and I will support you."

Song Qinghuan gave her a white look: "Would you like to send me, or if you don't, let me get off here."

The statutes were boring and uncomfortable again, but they didn't say anything.

He just turned around at the next traffic light intersection, carrying Song Qinghuan to the Times Group.

At the door of the company, Song Qinghuan asked the charter to wait for her outside, and she went up to the office alone. The articles of association are not good, the company has clearly stipulated that outsiders are not allowed to enter.

There was a security guard inside the security booth outside the Times Group. After checking Song Qinghuan's credentials, he let her in.

After Song Qinghuan's figure walked into the company lobby, the security called an internal number.

He respectfully said: "Hello, Mr. Shi, Miss Song has arrived at the company."

"Well," it was a very concise word, in a cold tone, with a touch of raging evil.

Ten minutes later, Song Qinghuan sent the document and walked out of the company. He passed the security booth. The security guard called an internal phone number: "Hello, Mr. Shi, Miss Song has left the company."

"Yeah!" It was still a faint word, and his tone remained the same as before.

As soon as he walked out of the company, a cold wind blew in. Song Qinghuan subconsciously embraced herself with both hands, feeling that the air-conditioning was too heavy.

Lifting his eyes, he looked at the tall and straight figure, leaning against the car, waiting for him silently.

Hearing the sound of footsteps, the charter raised his head and saw Song Qinghuan coming out. He immediately greeted him with a smile: "It's done, can I go to dinner?"

Song Qinghuan made an "ok" gesture.

When I turned my eyes, I saw that in the afternoon, the low-key and luxurious Maybach I was sitting in was parked next to the company's stone lion, as cold and solemn as its owner. The perfect lines were swayed by the dim yellow street lights. Yan's light.

Almost subconsciously, his mind slid past its owner, sitting lazily and casually leaning back and reading the newspaper, Song Qinghuan was startled.