Looking at the man in front of me, he sees an Armani suit, a Vacheron Constantin watch, and a Bugatti Veyron sedan. What doesn't show that he is a rich man? But it doesn't have the vulgar taste of the nouveau riche.
It should be his face!
Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!
Look, he is obviously an old man in his 40s, but there are still not a few wrinkles on his white face. He might be mistaken for a pretty boy, right? However, the aura emanating from his whole body was like a tattoo on his forehead: I am a noble! Four big characters.
Mom, is that why you like him? Thinking of this, I couldn't help but secretly squeeze the strap of my schoolbag and asked him coldly: "Is it okay to call me here? I have to rush home!"