The night was deep, and all was silent.
In the bedroom on the second floor of the villa, Lu Xiaoying was wrapped in a soft down duvet, sleeping soundly and peacefully, with a slight carefree smile on her lips.
However, in the guest room just a wall away, it was a different scene altogether.
Gong Qing clutched her hot phone, pacing back and forth in the room.
The caller ID showing "Mr. Zhao" flashed incessantly on the screen, like a death warrant.
The roar from the other end of the line was almost piercing through the receiver.
"Do you know what background the Minghuang Group has? With a word, they can drive us out of the entire industry!"
She collapsed onto the sofa, watching the gradually brightening sky outside, feeling her head splitting.
That night, she was like a prisoner pushed to the judgment stand, tormented by a bombardment of calls from various forces all night long.
Until the morning light appeared, did the cursing gradually cease.
