Under Fu Qian's relentless efforts, Tan Ying's psychological defenses finally collapsed, experiencing a fright to the fullest degree.
In such a scene, her screams were undeniably infectious, the group falling like dominoes as cries of terror erupted everywhere.
"You, you, you..."
After her screaming fit, Tan Ying pointed at Fu Qian, babbling incoherently.
"Like you... what the hell have I become?"
Even Qin Mingze, from outside the door, poked his head in, asking with a tone that was lost yet terrified.
"Like me, a pure manly man, ah."
Fu Qian said matter-of-factly, adding the latter half of the sentence.
...
Tan Ying's stammering abruptly ceased, her gaze fixed on Fu Qian.
Facing Fu Qian's constant leaps in logic, for a moment she felt her brain go blank.
"As a man of utmost Yang and toughness, a walking container of formalin, such things naturally can't affect me in the slightest."
Fu Qian, however, walked up leisurely and reached out to touch the mirror.
...
