The man's complexion turned unsightly in an instant, his whole body radiating an ominous tension and oppressive force as if a storm was brewing.
What he was clutching in his hand was Yao Qing's IOU.
Frowning, he eventually tucked it into his trouser pocket.
Yan Hong, who had been completely inconspicuous in this silent war, finally stepped forward.
She cautiously glanced in the direction Yao Qing had left, and then, slowly began to speak.
"Mr. Yanshen, I'm so sorry for causing Miss Yao to misunderstand."
No sooner had her words fallen than the man's gaze suddenly fixed on her.
Yan Hong was in her early thirties, and having hustled in society since she was twenty, she was somewhat experienced.
She had met Best Actress and Actor winners, Golden Horse Award directors, even engaged in conversation with them.
But none had the oppressive force of Yanshen's gaze.
She held her breath for a moment, instinctively.
