Yanshen's gaze lingered on her face, as if he were trying to see through her.
Yao Qing felt the back of her head tensing under his stare, much like how she felt when she first went abroad and faced a bunch of foreigners.
It was a bit unsettling, thinking they all seemed especially dangerous.
After a while, he calmly withdrew his gaze, lightly sweeping over the heaps of cameras that had now become like small hills.
"Did you hear what she said?"
A man in black immediately stepped forward from the crowd, "Yes."
The cries and pleas of the journalists were futile; the grating sound of cameras being smashed was oddly satisfying in Yao Qing's ears.
She took the chance to study the man's profile in the light; his eyes were cold and serious, and when he gave orders it gave her the illusion—the illusion that a top figure from Yaocheng was indulging her and tolerating her mistake.
