And Mo Shichen just watched her, unflinching and unblinking, his handsome face gloomy yet soft, exuding an endless aura of dominance. That slap, in the end, never landed on his face.
Wen Yi's breathing was rapid, her chest heaving violently, her eyes growing redder, yet not knowing which emotion was responsible. The hand she had raised was now clenched into a fist, remaining suspended in its original position, frozen mid-air.
"Weren't you going to slap me? I'm standing still for you to hit."
She pointed towards the door, her fingers trembling almost imperceptibly, "Get out!"
He stood unmoving, his eyes fixed on her, like a predator eyeing its prey, dangerous and resolute, suffocating in its intensity.
His gaze made her panic for no reason, and through gritted teeth, she repeated, "Mo Shichen, I'm telling you to get out—"
