Upon hearing Sun Zhe's predatory words, Han Xinyue's eyes flashed with disdain.
"You may be young, but you've certainly got some gall."
Sun Zhe smiled nonchalantly. "Age isn't important. The size of the equipment is what matters."
At that moment, Yue Changlin, who was convulsing on the ground, suddenly struggled to get up. He had also heard Sun Zhe's audacious words.
"My lady, you have to get out of here!"
"Sun Zhe… what exactly do you want?"
But Sun Zhe treated him as if he were thin air, striding directly toward Han Xinyue.
Han Xinyue watched him cautiously, slowly retreating. Suddenly, her eyes turned fierce, and she swung a hand concealed behind her, throwing a tea knife at Sun Zhe.
"You little beast, go to hell!"
The tea knife sliced through the air, impossibly sharp as it flew straight for Sun Zhe's forehead.
However, Sun Zhe remained unflustered, casually kicking up the coffee table in front of him.
