The man's hand paused as he was eating, and he raised his eyelids, his sharp, thin eyes looking at her.
Jiang Nuan almost wanted to retreat under his substantive gaze. The air fell silent for a moment. In the heavy atmosphere, she took a deep breath and bravely met his eyes.
Their gazes met in the air.
Jiang Nuan put down her chopsticks, unusually composed and calm, "I know everything about the injury to your left leg."
Fu Yi's neck seemed to be choked, his voice low and hoarse, his throat dry, "Who told you?" He had specifically asked others not to tell her.
