Mist.
Like a terrifying requiem clutching at the soul.
Li Jiaqi, dressed impeccably and walking with a confident and elegant stride, returned to the villa.
She disdainfully glanced at the few women sprawled messily across the carpet.
One of them was someone she knew—a former member of a disbanded girl group.
But she'd heard long ago that the woman had resorted to working as an escort.
"Heh, I knew you'd come back. You can't let go of wealth and glamour."
Zhang Yuzhe looked terrifying in his drunken hangover state—his swollen, sickly face and bloodshot eyes.
"Your clothes are an eyesore. Just like them, I want you on your knees at my feet."
At that moment, the women began to wake up.
Some chose to pretend not to see Li Jiaqi, while others looked at her with shrouds of shock.
"So, will you let these slags help you, or should I call my brothers to do it?"
Zhang Yuzhe picked up a cigar.
