His gaze, however, carried a chill, and even when he looked at Yan Xiyu, it was as if he were looking at a dead thing, a corpse.
"You shouldn't have touched my Achilles' heel."
Yan Xiyu cursed him. Although he sarcastically retorted, he didn't truly take it seriously in his heart; he just thought this person was ridiculous, practically a fool.
But at this moment, when Yan Xiyu mentioned his wife master with seemingly suggestive words, he truly became angry.
When he was genuinely angry, he didn't become fierce; instead, his expression turned cold, certainly not friendly nor expressive, just a very cold demeanor.
He slowly took a step forward.
"It seems you truly wish for death."
Suddenly, he picked up the teacup from the table, and with a bang, the teacup first hit Yan Xiyu on the forehead, then shattered on the ground with a crash.
Yan Xiyu only felt a pain on her forehead, reached out to touch it, the crimson stinging her eyes.
She glared, "You hit me?"
"Hit?"
