Zhiwei paused, turned off the hairdryer, and prepared to leave, her stance screaming that she didn't want to stay another second.
However, Zhou Lin once again caught her wrist, yet meeting her icy gaze only fueled an irritation in the pit of his stomach, "Everyone knows your throat is having issues, so why am I the last to know?"
Zhiwei didn't understand what Zhou Lin meant by that. Those who were aware cared about her, and since Zhou Lin had never shown concern before, it was normal for him to be uninformed. What was the point of bringing it up now?
The grip on her wrist tightened; Zhiwei bit her lip and firmly stomped on Zhou Lin's foot. However, her force seemed insignificant to him, provoking him instead to pull her against his chest and look down at her with dark, intense eyes.
Zhiwei immediately noticed the bite mark on his chin—it was from her biting hard earlier, leaving a visible trace.
She contemplated whether to do it again.
