The cup hit Zhou Yinghuai squarely on the forehead, and fresh blood trickled down, standing out starkly against his fair face.
Zhou Moxing had not expected Zhou Yinghuai not even to dodge. His face grew even uglier, and he said sternly, "You did that on purpose? What do you mean by not avoiding it!"
"What do you think I meant?" Zhou Yinghuai tugged at the corner of his mouth, smiling faintly, "You hit me, and I'm your son; I can endure it. If I did not let you vent on me, and you took it out on someone else, I wouldn't know what to do."
"Someone else?" Zhou Moxing let out a cold laugh, looking at Zhou Yinghuai with cold disappointment, "I really didn't expect you to be such a person! You're so headstrong, you know Jiang Tan is using you, and yet you still jump in headfirst!"
