"Oh, I get it now!" Xu Xiangyang put on an expression of sudden realization and exaggeratedly said, "So, you've been holding a grudge against me all this time over that argument with Xing Jie! What a petty woman, whatever happened to the idea that 'a prime minister's belly should be big enough to sail a boat in'?"
"...Xiangyang, I'm serious."
The class president let out a sigh.
"My point is simple, 'Are you really prepared?', I already asked this question just now. I just want to hear or see a more definite response from you."
"Of course, I am."
As soon as Zhu Qingyue mentioned that "she was serious," Xu Xiangyang's furrowed brow completely relaxed.
While speaking, he casually glanced around to make sure no one was approaching, then pulled out a piece from his pocket.
—That was a gun barrel.
The metal reflected a cold, jet-black sheen under the daylight lamp.
When Qing Yue saw it, she showed a surprised expression for a moment, then appeared quite happy, smiling broadly.
