She placed the phone next to her ear, and then raised the glass to her lips.
"Hi, yes, Yan Huan speaking." Only a handful of people knew her private number; she assumed this was a call from either the production crew or her agency.
When she heard the voice on the other end of the line, however, she involuntarily tightened her grip on the glass in her hand, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.
"Ms. Yan, how are you? Remember me?"
The corners of Yan Huan's mouth lifted into a dry, humorless smile. She set the glass down and began to tap on it gingerly with a finger.
She pretended to be completely clueless. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"
