He Chen was forced to stand still, and the strong scent of perfume from the woman seeped into his nose.
He lowered his gaze, forcefully pulled her away, tossing her several meters, and sneered coldly, "If your tongue is useless, cut it off."
The woman staggered backward, a hint of embarrassment crossing her face, but stubbornly pouted and complained, "Brother-in-law, you're so rude..."
At the same time, Yin Mo rose with a folder and headed out, as He Qing lowered his gaze with a faint smile, his eyes filled with delight.
It's not unreasonable for men to be lustful. Ironically, every woman He Chen fancies is a big-breasted, brainless type.
Like right now, no matter how loud the music is, it can't drown out that resounding slap.
He Qing took a sip of his drink, slightly raised his gaze, but quickly furrowed his brows.
Outside the VIP seat, the woman unbelievingly covered her left cheek, her chest heaving obviously vexed.
