Her complexion worsened.
The director urgently called for a halt. Meanwhile, George River had already rushed over and pulled her out of the stream.
Tiffany Lynch's face was pale. She looked utterly miserable, like a drenched chicken. No matter how hard she tried to appear fragile, there was no beauty in her appearance.
She leaned weakly against George, looked at Hannah, who was nearby, with a hoarse voice, "Hannah, why did you…"
"Miss Lynch, if you want to say I pushed you into the water, that's way too clichéd." Hannah interrupted Tiffany, smiling slightly. "I don't mind being slandered, on the contrary, I find it amusing, but at least your plots should give me a sense of novelty."
"Do you even know what novelty means?"
Ignoring George's gloomy glance, Hannah squatted in front of Tiffany, leaned on her face and looked at her, her malice revealed. "You wanted to smash my face with a teacup, now you found a different method. Seems like you really hate my face."
