At a remote corner inside the living hall, a middle-aged woman who was well-dressed and well-kept was standing before a man who looked much younger than her. She was glaring indignantly at a certain woman in front of her.
The other woman, who was about the same age as her, was sitting on the floor not far away from her. The woman looked stunned. She touched the side of her face in disbelief.
Next to her, the overturned table and the broken glass were laying in a mess.
Zhao Youlin and the rest of her group were greeted by such a sight when they arrived. Zhao Youlin paused mid-stride. When she was assured that Duan Yarong and Han Yichen were fine, she heaved a sigh of relief.
The next moment, she cast a glance at the mess scattered around the floor and the woman sitting on the edge of the wreckage. She narrowed her eyes and said in a low voice, "The banquet has not officially started. But I see that someone has already put up a good show."
