This short exchange was an onslaught of attack after attack. Wei Qinghe's expression warped with rage. His eyes widened considerably, his hands clenched into fists on the armrests of his chair, veins popping.
He was trying to hold it together.
Tang Youmin looked at Wei Qinghe's state with unabated amusement.
"What about me?"
"Isn't what I said right? You think just because you're in VG and the entertainment circle, you can make a name for yourself? How is that possible, do you have the talent or ability? Do you have the money to keep advancing?"
"Do you have a proud background or power?"
"Let alone, your old mother is still waiting for you to bring money to prolong her life…"
Tang Youmin continued.
"You! You mother…"
There were limits to a person's patience, and Wei Qinghe, young and fiery as he was, had already reached his. He sprung up from his chair, clutching Tang Youmin's collar with one hand, the whites of his eyes now laced with bloodshot veins.
How dare he?
