Her hand found the ashtray on the coffee table, and without thinking, Chen Zhi smashed it onto his forehead.
"Damn!" Si Ye cursed in pain and stopped moving.
A cut opened on his forehead, and fresh blood trickled down his alabaster nose, dripping onto Chen Zhi's body.
"Woman, are you seeking death?!" He grabbed her throat, squeezing tightly, and Chen Zhi's face immediately turned bright red.
"How dare you hit me. Have you forgotten who you are? Are you tired of living?" Si Ye was so angry he truly wanted to kill someone.
No one had ever dared to lay a finger on him since he was a child.
Aside from injuries during his own training, he hardly ever got hurt for any other reason.
Now a cut marred his most cherished face, and it happened in such a circumstance, struck by a woman when he let his guard down. If word got out, it would be the death of his reputation.
