Su Muran, at the very least, was well-bred and had a good taste. Sun Yuhan, on the other hand, was a jumped-up vulgarian at best.
That was when a man and woman entered the room.
The woman wore a black cocktail dress that had a hard time containing her breasts. Many men blushed at the sight of her.
The woman's red lips were fixed in a pout, her hair dyed wine-red—the same color as her nails. There was a devilish beauty to her.
It was Su Muran and Lu Qin. Sun Yuhan, who was in the middle of a pleasant chat with some big-name directors, changed colors when she saw the two of them. Even her smiles became strained.
