Zhao Yifei abruptly paused mid-stride. The smile on his face instantly turned strained. His expression became black, and he glared at the woman, who was holding a mirror and touching up her makeup at a corner of the office.
Zhao Youxi pursed her lips at the mirror before she kept it with satisfaction. When she raised her head, within her expectation, she was greeted by the sight of Zhao Yifei's sinister and resentful gaze. She laughed and continued, "Why are you not responding? It looks like you didn't only hurt your hand the other day, but also your tongue, huh?"
