"Who?"
"Yan Xixi."
"..."
"But she actually wasn't on that flight."
Huang Xiaojue frowned slightly: "First she's on it, then she's not. What the hell does that mean?"
"You really don't know?"
"..."
Zhou Ting sneered: "I'm puzzled myself. An emergency landing like that—odds lower than winning the lottery, maybe not that low, but still not high. Yet what a coincidence, Yan Xixi just happens not to be on the plane. Huang Xiaojue, don't you think that's weird? Where did her prophetic foresight come from?"
"What's so weird about it?"
"She missed the flight because some lecher groped her. That's not weird?"
Huang Xiaojue was taken aback: "What do you mean?"
She smiled, inscrutable: "I'm wondering the same thing. Huang Xiaojue, why don't you help me analyze why Yan Xixi's luck is always this damn good?"
Huang Xiaojue took the file she pushed over and looked it through; his expression slowly changed.
