Not long after, Jia Zhengyi prepared a draft for his post that expressed his apology to Su Li.
Xiao Luo read through it grumpily, and he could not help but sneer. "This is the language standard of a professional talk show host? A middle schooler could write this!"
Then, in the next second, a palm landed squarely on Jia Zhengyi's face.
Smack!
The palm was not as big as a palm-leaf fan, but it still packed quite a punch! A sharp, crisp sound accompanied the slap as it landed hard on the soft, sensitive skin of Jia Zhengyi's face, sending him crashing to the floor as he screamed in pain. One could tell with just one glance that the left side of his face was swelling up quickly.
Xiao Luo tossed the phone back to him. "Rewrite it. Make it more vivid this time," he barked.
"Yes, yes…"
Jia Zhengyi was on the verge of tears, but he did not dare decline. He promptly held the phone and continued to write once again.
