Knock, knock, knock. A slightly urgent knock suddenly came from outside the office door, followed by a slightly anxious male voice. "Chief? Chief, is everything okay? Chief, can I come in?"
The sharp tip of the knife thrust through the office desk, less than five centimeters away from Zhao Youming's face.
Looking at his own face reflected in the blade and imagining what could have happened if Zhao Yifei had aimed closer, cold sweat rolled down from Zhao Youming's head.
The panicked look on Zhao Youming's face greatly satisfied Zhao Yifei's desire for vengeance. He chuckled and pulled the knife from the table with force. Then, he gently patted Zhao Youming's face with the smooth blade.
