Nan Yao was staring fixedly at the man who was walking over.
Wild and untamed beauty, a domineering aura and an innate air of royalty.
His white shirt was perfectly ironed, and she could seen that his trim-fitting suit was haute couture at first glance, making the lines of his body even more tall and straight. The arms that were carrying the woman were firm and strong and full of masculine strength.
The man gave no hint of a response when he was faced with her shocked and infatuated gaze, it was as if she did not exist at all. He walked straight past her.
Nan Yao had yet to recover from the blow of being treated as air by the man, and her mouth opened wide with shock when she saw him entering the number one ballroom.
How was that possible?
Wasn't the VIP in the number one ballroom an old man with a face full of wrinkles?
And, why did she feel that the woman carried by the man looked a little familiar?