"Not going to say anything?" He was very patient, his slender, strong hand slowly moving up along her forearm until he grasped her wrist, or rather, clamped it like iron, mercilessly pulling it back. "Do you want a more thorough house arrest, not seeing sunlight or flowers, or any living person?"
"Lu Shifeng!" She finally couldn't hold back, speaking with humiliation and anger, "To what extent are you going to push me? I will not change my mind, photography is my life! Why can Xia Ling do what she likes, but I can't? Don't impose your feudal and stubborn male chauvinism on others!"
Her chest heaved with anger, and she turned her head to look at him resentfully.
Lu Shifeng's expression was unruffled: "Finished?"
With just one sentence, she felt all her strength hit a wall of cotton.
She looked at him, the man's cold face as calm as an icy wasteland. Her expression turned a bit desolate, and she laughed at herself, "Yes, I'm finished. What else is there to say to you?"
