The attendant guided Su Huan to the semi-private booth in the center.
The lights crisscrossed, perfectly illuminating the table and some decorative points, the faces slightly dim, like a blanket, hiding the people within.
Mr. Shu sat on the sofa, although not as casually as Su Huan's usual posture, he did not stand to greet either, he simply pointed to the opposite seat with one hand and said, sit.
Su Huan sat down, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows, draped openly on the back of the sofa, crossing his legs in front, the tip of his combat boots grazing the coffee table.
Repeated evolution and battles had sculpted him into a tall and straight figure, even sitting so lazily there, he did not give off a bloated and decadent feeling, like a tiger or leopard lounging in a tree, playfully overlooking its prey.
Seeing his unrestrained sitting posture, Shu Wei subconsciously glanced at her mother.
