The microphone pointed at Ji Mingyue, who was seated at the center, smiling in the face of the reporters' flashlights.
Ji Chicheng sat to her left, crossing his legs, his hands clasped on his lap, leaning back in his chair, his head slightly tilted.
Languid and casual, calm and composed.
A stark contrast to the slightly nervous Ji Mingyue beside him.
More people were still entering, including media and senior executives with influence in J.C.
"Ming Yue, it's almost time."
An old man a few seats away quietly reminded Ji Mingyue.
This press conference was convened by Ji Chicheng in the name of Ji Mingyue; otherwise, these shareholders with somewhat feudal mindsets wouldn't have come.
Because, in their eyes, Ji Chicheng was the unfilial son who stole his nephew's wife and angered his father to death, a heinous demon.
Therefore, they only discussed matters with Ji Mingyue.
