"What are you so proud of, Qiao Xiaren? Your birthright is merely better than mine. My loss to you today is merely the hand of fate! I refuse to believe, refuse to believe that your good fortune will last forever."
With these last words, a peculiar smile twisted across Qiao Anchu's lips, half curse and half resentment.
"Is that so? What a pity then." Qiao Xiaren nonchalantly took a few steps forward, once again mercilessly stepping on his terribly mangled hand. She smiled and said, "I control my fate, not even the heavens can dictate it. If they can't, who are you, Qiao Anchu, in comparison? Thank you, however, for bearing the name Qiao Anchu. The name really is quite ugly."
Despite her public display of violence, Qiao Xiaren remained elegant, her demeanor exuding such a stark contrast to her actions, enough to make one's blood boil and bring about feelings of suffocation.
Wang Yi's eyes sparkled with admiration; this was truly authoritative and impressive!
