An Ru's fall caused a stir at the scene, and before anyone could help her up, someone suddenly burst through the doors of the studio.
Yan Hong.
She seemed to have come in a hurry; her white shirt hadn't even been properly tucked in when she rushed onto the stage.
"Xiaoru? Xiaoru?"
An Ru didn't respond; she must have really been unable to handle the shock and fainted.
Everyone has a threshold for stress, deep for some, shallow for others.
Yan Hong reacted quickly, hastily picking up An Ru and glancing at Yao Qing as she did so.
That glance was complex, to say it was anger would be inaccurate, as there wasn't much fury in it.
To say it was hate would also be wrong as there was no turbulent emotion.
It was just complex... indescribable.
"Miss Yao, she's just a young girl. Where we can forgive, let's forgive. You've already gotten what you wanted, haven't you?"
