At twelve o'clock at noon, Zhuo Jian read out to the camera, "Fu Yanye, the president of the Fu Group, a famous entrepreneur in our city, announced that a wedding will be held after the new year. The bride's surname will be in eight strokes."
——
When the man who was watching the news and eating heard this, he unconsciously put the tip of his tongue against his back teeth and laughed.
"How do you get her to read something like this?"
Su Bai, who was eating with him, asked thoughtfully.
Fu Yanye took a piece of paper and wiped his slender fingers, and said in a low voice: "I just donated tens of millions to the TV station."
"..."
Su Bai thought to himself, you are really a good guy, but it’s just tens of millions?
Ah!
But the bride’s last name is Bahua?
Su Bai's hands quietly started tracing on the table.
"Hey! Lin Zhengbahua!"
"It just so happens that it's not just Lin who painted eight pictures."
When Fu Yanye heard the word Lin, he reminded him coldly.
Su Bai's heart tightened, and he immediately described another word, this...
Fu Yanye thought to herself, when she read it out, she probably only counted Lin Ruxiang's stroke order. What is this called?
Every secret must be sparse!
In the next week, every Zhuo Jian live broadcast will receive a piece of temporary news about Fu Yanye, and every piece of news is about his marriage.
Which wedding venue should she choose, the green countryside she likes, or Gisborne, New Zealand, which he likes?
There is also the first photo of her as a child, from the back, wearing a pink skirt and lying on her head of wool curls.
Zhuo Jian read it out, but couldn't help but joked for the first time: "It is said that his girlfriend is pregnant, I wonder if she can run that far!"
As her partner, Yang Yi took a breath after hearing this. If it weren't for the live broadcast, she would really be unable to hold back.
That afternoon when Zhuo Jian came home from get off work, Fu Yanye was already cooking in the kitchen. He was wearing a white shirt, black trousers, and a green apron.
Those who didn't know better thought he was the man of the house.
but......
Zhuo Jian stood looking at the silhouette from a distance, and couldn't help but say: "When did Mr. Fu get into the habit of breaking into private houses? Those who don't know better would think you are the man of the house."
When Fu Yanye heard the voice, he glanced at her with dark eyes, and then continued to prepare his dinner.
Zhuo Jian kicked off her high heels and walked over barefoot: "Did you hear me? Mr. Fu!"
"I heard that you want to eat the small wontons made at home. The skin is made by the servant at home, and the meat is wrapped by me, single-handedly."
Fu Yanye told her while placing the wontons neatly on a container.
Zhuo Jian's heart trembled, and he silently glanced at his left hand, which had been moving, and even more anger came out: "What are you doing recently? Spend tens of millions to buy equipment for the TV station and rebuild us
In the studio, there is a bouquet of white roses every day, the cards are always full of sarcasm and provocation, and now this little wonton, in a company as big as yours, are you really so free?"
"What? You are only allowed to sue me for divorce and lie to the media that you are not my wife, but you are not allowed to stimulate you?"
Fu Yanye asked her instead without answering.
Zhuo Jian: "..."
So all he did was fight back?
Then he would have to pay a lot of money, and it wouldn't cost her much money to sue him.
And if he fights back, he should fight back well, so what’s going on now?
A big man, or a big boss, actually making wontons for her in her small kitchen?
Still one-handed?
She doesn't even have this skill.
Zhuo Jian touched his cold forehead angrily, then looked at him and asked, "What you did was a retaliation, right?"
"yes!"
"What now? What's going on with these little wontons?"
"I added medicine to it, and after you finish it, I'll throw you on the bed, and then..."