"Director Song."
Wei Zejun wore a slight smile, walking unhurriedly while extending his right hand.
When he reached the table, his right arm just lifted, grasping Song Guanchao's hand.
Song Guanchao released his hand and was about to invite him to sit, but he had already taken a seat.
His body reclined completely against the chair, slightly leaning back, in a state of extreme relaxation.
Song Guanchao's brow subtly rose.
This guy, from the moment he entered until now, has been using body language to try and seize the initiative.
The average person wouldn't notice, only feeling somewhat uneasy.
Song Guanchao couldn't help but reevaluate him, having always thought Wei Zejun was a second-generation rich kid with no real learning.
But through these details, he realized he might have underestimated him.
Song Guanchao fetched two disposable cups, sprinkled in some tea leaves, poured hot water, and placed them before the two of them, holding the rim of the cups.
