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Throwing darts like jabbing a voodoo doll, muttering curses under his breath, who knows if he's reciting lines or really cursing someone.
The darts were thrown with passion, the posture quite professional, but it's a pity the aim wasn't great—darts randomly scattered about the target, with quite a few misses too.
Down to the last dart in hand, Feng Chi handed it to the person next to him, Feng Yi, then walked over to the fridge to grab a drink.
Feng Yi glanced at the dart in his hand, took a brief look at the target, casually threw it, not even looking to see where it landed, and turned to Feng Chi.
He asked Feng Chi, "What's up? Spill it."
Feng Chi, holding a bottle of fruit drink, didn't even close the fridge door, just stood there staring blankly at Feng Yi.
Feng Yi raised an eyebrow, sending back a questioning look.
