Just as Mr. Dong touched her, before he could react, he was kicked away. His strong body flew like a ragdoll, hitting the wall behind and then sliding down to the ground.
Mrs. Dong screamed, "Honey!"
Bo Yimo slowly walked up to him and looked down at him. His face was emotionless, and his eyes were icy, as cold as the snow on Tianshan, a bone-chilling cold. His brows knitted ominously, "Dong Tingwei, are you courting death?"
The kick had used up all his strength, and Mr. Dong coughed up a mouthful of blood, "Little Mo, you!"
Bo Yimo spoke calmly, his eyes carrying an icy chill like the cold snow of early spring, "If you touch her even a bit, I will repay tenfold. You've come this far, you tell me how much you want?"
This was an unanswerable question, and the room fell silent, no one replied.
