He Jingyao let out a heavy sigh, one hand steadying himself against the wall.
Opening his eyes, He Jingyao surveyed the bathroom; a mirror was right next to him.
He looked at his own face in the mirror and, without hesitation, punched it fiercely!
With a crash, the mirror shattered into pieces, and the man's hand was covered in blood!
"Ah!" the girl screamed in horror, "Mr. He, you're bleeding!"
With his back against the wall and facing her, He Jingyao spoke in a cold voice, "Don't come any closer!"
The girl's footsteps halted abruptly.
It was not his words that stopped her, but his expression.
The man's handsome face was still extremely tense, cold and restrained, his jet-black eyes seeming to be filled with shattered ice, tinged with a touch of condescension and mockery.
This coldness and mockery involuntarily filled her with fear and inferiority, as if even moving one step closer to him would be a desecration.
