Mo Shiche's handsome face darkened with intense fury, his black eyes covered in a thick layer of ice. His long legs took big strides as he walked over, leaned down, and forcefully grabbed Yan Chu's shoulder, yanking him off Luo Qiangwei.
Immediately, he swung a punch—
Yan Chu stumbled two steps backward after being hit and, with a hand pressed to the corner of his mouth, didn't hit back. Instead, he looked at Mo Shiche with a contemptuous and mocking cold laugh. Mo Shiche's expression frosted over as he raised his fist to strike again.
A figure suddenly rose from the sofa, standing in front of him.
Mo Shiche's fist came to an abrupt stop. He looked at the woman before him with icy venom, each word biting through clenched teeth, "Luo Qiangwei."
"If you want to hit him, why?" Luo Qiangwei lifted her face to look at him, her smile both seductive and ice-cold, "But I think you're not qualified to hit him."
Cold laughter spilled from his throat, "I'm not qualified, then who is?"
