Zhuang Ke felt a chill down her spine.
Jiang Ruan's words, neither soft nor tough, neither salty nor bland, were like a hailstorm deeply piercing her to the bone.
Cold sweat gradually climbed up, the chill soaking into her marrow, making her body tremble uncontrollably.
But still, she confronted Jiang Ruan's gaze directly, gritting her teeth, and flatly admitted, "I'm just describing what I saw. In fact, you almost killed someone. Is that a problem?"
"No problem," Jiang Ruan laughed and straightened her back. "But, twisting the process to suit your narrative is indeed a big problem. In less than an hour, you will be summoned by the police for defamation, and your future, your life, will be turned into ashes."
Jiang Ruan squinted her peach blossom eyes, finding it amusing.
People with suppressed inferiority and depravity in their hearts either don't explode, or when they do, it's like a landslide.
From their perspective, the whole world is wrong.
