She took it down, swung it over her shoulder in one swift motion, then picked up the cigarette with one hand, pinching it leisurely between her slender fingertips.
Yet it instantly exuded an indolent assertiveness that one could hardly believe was radiating from a woman. Instead, it felt like it came from a youthful yet weathered boy, lost and melancholy.
Her handsome demeanor truly... caused everyone present to hold their breath, with an urge to gasp.
At this moment, who cared about how swollen her face was, or whether she was a woman?
Her charisma and charm were beyond the scope of being described as either masculine or feminine; it was simply a sensation.
Ye Ning's performance was complete. She placed the cigarette in her mouth, took a drag, exhaled deeply, and walked toward the group.
The director stood dazed in the back, having long forgotten to speak.
The entire room was silent; even breathing seemed forgotten.
