The girls stopped right before the private room Su Zhinian was in. Song Qingchun, who was about to move her eyes away, stopped.

She saw the waitress reach out to knock on the door and pushed it open, then leading the group of girls into the room.

Song Qingchun frowned, and her gaze remained glued to the door of Su Zhinian's room.

Cheng Qingchong stepped in to the elevator as soon as the doors opened. When she saw Song Qingchun still standing there, she reminded her, "Miss Song, the elevator has arrived."

Song Qingchun came to and nodded at Cheng Qingchong as she stepped into the elevator. Before she got in, she turned to look at Su Zhinian's room. The waitress came out of it, and behind her, there were only three girls left.

There were originally ten girls, so this means seven girls are left in Su Zhinian's private room?

"Miss Song, why did you stop again?" Cheng Qingchong called after Song Qingchun, who had stopped at the elevator door.

Song Qingchun immediately tore her gaze away and walked to stand beside Cheng Qingchong. However, she didn't answer the other woman's question. The elevator door closed, and they started to move downstairs.

Song Qingchun stared at the dancing red numbers on top of the elevator door, but her mind was filled with the images of those young girls.

The elevator stopped at the fourth floor. Realizing Song Qingchun still hadn't moved, Cheng Qingchong called to remind her again.

When they both got out of the elevator, Cheng Qingchong turned to ask Song Qingchun, "Miss Song, are you feeling alright? You don't seem focused tonight."

Song Qingchun shook her head and smiled at Cheng Qingchong. "I'm fine."

Cheng Qingchong smiled back in relief. However, when they were ordering, Song Qingchong spaced out a few more times.

Cheng Qingchong knew Song Qingchun was an entertainment news reporter. When Song Qingchun appeared at Su Zhinian's office a few months ago, she had started researching about Song Qingchun on the internet, looking through the news articles that she had written.

While they were waiting for the food to be served, worried that Song Qingchun might be bored, she purposely brought up a few celebrities that Song Qingchun had interviewed before, pretending that she was nosy and curious about the authenticity of those reports. She asked frivolous questions, like are those celebrities as good-looking in person.

The more talkative Cheng Qingchong was, the quieter Song Qingchun became. Cheng Qingchong tried her best to draw Song Qingchun out of her shell, and she was about to give up when Song Qingchun suddenly threw out a question. "How many people are in the business meeting with Su Zhinian?"

"Only one: CEO Lee," Cheng Qingchong answered as she poured Song Qingchun a glass of warm milk tea.

Only one? Song Qingchun frowned. In other words, in that private room, two men are sharing seven girls? Meaning one man will have the attention of three and a half girls?

The image of Su Zhinian being surrounded by three coquettish young nymphs appeared in Song Qingchun's mind instantly. Her hand that gripped the chopstick tightened suddenly, causing the meatball she was holding in her bowl to fly out and land squarely on the back of her palm.

The meatball still had some juice in it, and it splattered all over Song Qingchun's hand. A faint red welt appeared on her skin immediately.

"Miss Song, are you okay?" Cheng Qingchun immediately grabbed several plies of wet napkins and passed them to her.

Song Qingchun accepted them with a blank gaze. She then shook her head absent-mindedly at Cheng Qingchong before spacing out again.

I gave her the napkins to wipe her hand, so why is she holding them in her palm and sitting there dumbly?