The Director Pan, stared down by Musheng, felt a chill spread uncomfortably throughout his body despite the room's cool and pleasant temperature; a thin layer of cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Those eyes exuded a vision so sharp and terrifying, occasionally flashing a frightening crimson, like prey targeted by a lion, just waiting to be torn to shreds.
The air itself seemed to have thickened into a substance, like a flowing viscous mass; being in it made breathing difficult, the feeling of having one's throat locked was so evident, and the murderous aura it carried was truly terrifying.
"Or, Miss Musheng, you could just drink tea instead of liquor..."
Director Pan's plump body shook uncontrollably, as he hastily offered a different suggestion than before. Hearing this, Musheng lifted her gaze with a light laugh, picked up the wine glass once more, and gently swirled it: "I wouldn't dare, how could I not give face to Director Pan? Come, I drink to Director Pan!"
