Mei Wanying patted Pei Yan's face, striking a bit too hard in her haste.
She thought the poison in Pei Yan had flared up and he'd passed out.
She couldn't see clearly, so all she could do was slap the man's face and listen for a response.
"Serves you right for not making a sound!"
Mei Wanying finally caught on. Pei Yan was faking it. That sharp question from moments ago—he didn't sound weak at all!
Once she figured it out, Mei Wanying wanted nothing more than to give him a couple of good slaps.
'This man is such a scoundrel!'
'Faking an illness to scare me at a time like this!'
Pei Yan coughed and leaned back against the soft chaise. "The attack is real."
Mei Wanying: "Right. An attack of scoundrel-itis!"
Pei Yan: "..."
He wasn't silver-tongued like Mei Wanying. He'd never been her match, often having to storm off in frustration.
Now, he stood even less of a chance against her.
