The man's tall body leaned lazily against the chair, his left hand in his pants pocket, his right hand holding a cigar, skilfully puffing out smoke.
The smoke covered his handsome and wild features with a deep veil of hazy white.
One of his long legs was stretched across the corridor, taking up two-thirds of the space. If she wanted to get back to the others, Nan Zhi would have to step over him.
Nan Zhi did not intend to talk to him, so she raised her leg and crossed over his elongated legs.
But she had just walked forward two steps, when her wrist was firmly grasped by a warm and strong hand.
"Mu Sihan, what are you doing?" She hissed and struggled subconsciously, her expression cold and indifferent. Almost like a stranger.
Mu Sihan put out his cigar and pulled her domineeringly into the men's washroom.
