Robert Stephens looked at her, his dark eyes still swirling with hostility, but his expression gradually calmed down.
He leaned against the sofa, closed his eyes slightly, and said in a calm voice, "Come in and clean up."
"Yes." Charlotte Smith responded softly, walked over, kneeling on the floor, and picked up the pieces of the incense burner that Robert had just smashed onto the ground one by one.
The incense had just been burning, and the fragments were scorching hot. Charlotte kept her head down, her fingertips turning red from the burns, not daring to complain.
"You're too slow." The man's lukewarm voice hit her from above.
"I'm sorry." She apologized instinctively, and her fingertip accidentally got cut by a sharp piece of porcelain. Bright red blood instantly mixed into the ashes on the floor. She couldn't help but let out a light hiss of pain, but didn't dare pause, and quickly gathered the pieces to throw them into the trash.
