Breakfast was relatively overbearing after Ethan left.
Lu Jianjun finished quicker than her, standing abruptly without a word. He strode upstairs, leaving behind the same coldness that had wrapped around him since morning.
Li Na clenched her jaw, stabbing her fork into her food with a little too much force.
Seriously, what was his problem?
After breakfast, she retreated to bedroom, determined to focus on her script. Within a few minutes through her posture changes, as she end up sprawled on the sofa, legs propped up, hair cascading over the edge, script held upside down like she had just given up on gravity. Her mood was sour—tangy, even—as she loudly read through her lines with the kind of theatrical exaggeration that could put an entire Shakespearean tragedy to shame.
She was almost done memorizing the twenty—pages, but her mind was barely on the task.
