Little Nine, hiding in the corner, looked at the person asking the question with an expression as if staring at an idiot.
My brother, you're just courting death.
What kind of brain does it take to ask such a question.
With someone like Young Master Mo, being affectionate in public? Isn't that asking for death?
Oh, I'm guessing this person won't live past tonight.
"Who just asked that question?" Bo Yimo smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes, which were cold as ice, as if brewing a storm, "Little Nine, throw them out."
As soon as these words fell, those who were previously excitedly jeering suddenly fell silent, exchanging glances, feeling that the atmosphere had suddenly chilled.
And who is Little Nine anyway??
The next second, they saw a tall, muscular man in black directly throw the journalist who had just spoken out, the whole process taking less than two minutes.
Such speed, such swift action, truly decisive and efficient.
