Lu Sirong threw herself onto the bed, overwhelmed with shame and anger. She looked at the several nail marks on her wrist, and the hatred in her eyes seemed almost tangible.
She clenched her fists, turned around, and made a dash for the door.
"Lu Sirong," Lu Fengxuan said, looking at her with contempt, "are you planning to go out and tattle?"
Lu Sirong's hand was on the doorknob, about to leave, when behind her she said airily:
"No matter how much you plead, no one will believe you, especially at this time, with so many people waiting for you outside, oh, and those two police officers as well, waiting for you to 'come to your senses.'"
Lu Fengxuan spoke slowly, then picked up a glass of water from the coffee table, poured herself a drink, and sipped it leisurely.
Lu Sirong's steps halted. Her right hand gripped the doorknob tightly, and she turned around angrily, "Lu Fengxuan, what on earth do you want?"
