"Have you seen enough, Director Shen?" Song Yanxi suddenly turned around in front of the financial reporter's camera. The pearl earrings she took off rolled down to her feet, revealing the rose tattoo behind her ear that only Shen Lingran knew about. The trading room of the investment bank was brightly lit that night. Shen Lingran pressed the other party against the flashing data wall of the Bloomberg terminal, and ran her fingertips across the merger agreement she had just signed: "You had predicted that I would lower the valuation of your betting agreement..."
The heart-shaped eggs in the frying pan were perfectly browned as the morning light penetrated the mist. With strawberry jam on her fingertips, Song Yanxi wrote the eighth word "" on Shen Ling's back. The short-selling reports they exchanged in the capital market in those years have now become the way to tie a tie before the morning meeting - just like the hands that touched each other in the financial modeling class during the student days, seemingly competing for the same calculator, but actually sharing the same rapid heartbeat.
"Call my husband and I will spare you."
"... Song Yanxi!"
Intention: Just meet you