Fang Yi saw the other man with his cigar in his mouth, puffing away, while he could only watch helplessly. This feeling was naturally very unpleasant for Zhou Jiafei.
"Hoo..."
Fang Yi slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke. The thick, white smoke rose gently in front of him, making his chiseled face even more angular, especially his eyes, sharp like knives and swords, with an unusual glint, unfathomable and enchanting.
Zhou Jiafei stared fixedly at Fang Yi, his gaze cold and terrifying. Ordinary people dared not meet his eye.
However, Fang Yi faced him calmly, without flinching or avoiding, with a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
That slight smile seemed to be mocking.
At this moment,
Zhou Jiafei clenched his fist tightly, his fingernails seeming to pierce into the flesh of his palm.
"Die!"
Finally, Zhou Jiafei spoke, gritting his teeth and forcing out the word between clenched jaws.
