Ji Yuhan's eyes narrowed, but he didn't look away from the auctioneer.
His silence only seemed to embolden Zhen Bo, who leaned in slightly, his voice low but sharp.
"What are you trying to achieve by doing this?" Zhen Bo's words sliced through the growing tension.
He studied Ji Yuhan's face, his tone even more cutting.
"It seems like you don't even know yourself. I would have understood it if you did, but you don't."
The weight of Zhen Bo's words hung in the air, and Ji Yuhan's jaw clenched harder.
There was a flicker in his eyes—something fleeting, something that no one could quite place.
His gaze remained fixed on the auctioneer, though it was clear that Zhen Bo's words had struck a chord.
The people at their table fell silent, and even Mei Xuan, who had been confused at first, could now clearly guess what was going on.
