"Proceed."
Kan Luotang gestured for him to begin.
Below the stage.
Zhao Yong stared at Kan Luotang on the stage, clad in her white dress, his eyes dazed. His pale lips trembled, but he couldn't utter a single sound.
He didn't believe Kan Luotang could win nineteen matches in two hours.
So Zhao Ci had lost after all.
But Zhao Ci's loss didn't change the fact that he had lost as well.
In his book, *Zhao Yong's Life Insights*, he could strictly adhere, or force himself to adhere, to anything written on its pages.
But now, he'd found a rule that was difficult to follow: 'Do not lose your composure over another man's woman. The competition between mansions has no place for pure love.'
This problem was too difficult.
He didn't know how to solve it.
Zhao Xie also gave a bitter, jealous smile, unsure of what to say.
Zhao Ci: "..."
'Two Stockholm syndrome patients, one mid-stage and one late-stage, currently diagnosing each other through silence.'
Nearby.
