Yao Zibao swiftly climbed up from the ground, hurriedly put on his jacket, picked up the thermos, and said, "My mom wants you to come to our house, but I advise against it."
"Why?"
"Aren't you my boss? What are you doing at my house? A home visit? If my mom finds out my neighbor is my boss—" Yao Zibao stared at her wide-eyed, unable to speak.
Just thinking about it seemed so ridiculous. His clueless mom wanted to invite her over for tea.
Song Binbin smiled subtly, neither agreeing nor rejecting.
Yao Zibao, anxious to complete his task, didn't wait for her answer and, as he turned to leave, suddenly remembered and asked her, "What does your room window face?"
"Probably the same as your living room. Downstairs courtyard."
