"What debt? I don't know what you're talking about?" Qiu Murong, who had just been imposing, suddenly lost her momentum, and even her gaze started to dodge.
Ye Chenfeng's lips curved upwards, revealing a hint of a wicked smile as he sized up Qiu Murong with great interest, "Director Qiu, what are you hiding from? Are you very afraid of me?"
"Why would I... be afraid of you?" Qiu Murong tried to maintain her composure, but her panicked expression and faltering speech betrayed her; even a layer of sweat had broken out on her forehead.
"Oh?" Ye Chenfeng casually took out a cigarette and lit it, his gaze firmly on Qiu Murong: "Is that so?"
As he spoke, Ye Chenfeng moved closer to Qiu Murong step by step,
with a ruffian-like demeanor, his lazy movements and strides, lips curled in a smirk amid swirling smoke, his features sharp and striking, especially those deep and dark eyes that seemed almost bottomless.
