Jing Zhimei screamed, and in the cold, expressionless eyes of Han Ye, a slight movement could be detected. His right hand chopped toward Jing Zhimei's neck, and she fainted weakly, collapsing onto the carpet.
With one hand, Han Ye picked up Jing Zhimei and walked towards the outside.
In the room, the man's deep eyes gazed toward the distant stars, his expression placid, his voice clear, cold, and lazy.
"Mo Yunchen, Qin Qin!... Qinqin!"
The trap he had set was unfolding step by step, how wonderful!
A while later, the figure of Han Ye appeared before the man in the room. The man shook his head in disgust, "You should take a bath before you show up in front of me, do you know how strong the smell of blood is?"
Han Ye stayed silent, bowing his head.
"Alright, just be more mindful in the future."
The man said with a smile, yet his voice remained flat, without any fluctuation.
