The air after her words fell was tense and cold like a tightly drawn bowstring.
Wen Yi stood up from her chair, the screeching sound of it scraping the floor sharp and piercing. She bore no expression, her face flushed with rash as she turned to leave the dining room, acting as if nothing had happened.
However, before she could step out of the restaurant, her wrist was grabbed.
The rash on her body was actually quite uncomfortable, a bit painful and itchy.
Wen Yi looked down and smiled faintly, "If you want to stand up for her and challenge me, go back to Paris and take back the president's position from your brother first. I don't want to waste time with a man who has no strength, no confidence, and no money to even make idle talk."
The fingers clutching her wrist suddenly tightened their grip.
Mo Shichen looked up at her, his tone calm and clear, "Whether I leave or not, how I explain it to her, does that have any direct or inevitable connection? Miss Wen."
"Not at all."
