The private room door flew open, and Yu Chiyin's tall figure appeared in the doorway.
When he saw her being choked and pinned to the ground, the anxiousness in his ink-black eyes was instantly covered by a cold, blood-red fury, his malicious aura surging.
"Bang—"
No one in the private room saw how he acted, it seemed like in the blink of an eye, the man with the plaid pattern was kicked and sent flying.
He crashed into the wall like a rag doll, then fell heavily to the ground, causing two dull thuds.
The man with the plaid pattern raised his hand to cover his chest, coughed suppressively a couple of times, and immediately felt a sharp pain as if all his organs were being pulled, the taste of blood heavy in his mouth.
Yu Chiyin's face was cold as he bent over to pull her up from the ground, his icy gaze sweeping over the bruises on her neck, and when he saw the blood on the tip of her nose, a growing chill filled his eyes.
