Oh, Rong Yan had never seen her speak so pointedly before. She glanced at Xia Xue, whose name had been mentioned, to see her already delicate and pure face turn another shade paler, not knowing if it was out of nervousness or fear.
That pitiful and charming appearance attracted many men, but unfortunately, she wasn't a man; she didn't have a little ding-ding and couldn't breed a heart of pity and cherishing beauty, "Yan Hong was right, she really could prove it for me. Right, Xia Xue?"
Xia Xue's heart clenched painfully; her hands tightly held the microphone, the veins on the back of her hands bulging out; she timidly called out, "Rong Yan."
That voice with its quiver, sounded just like a damsel in distress in the new century.
"I'm asking you if you can prove it for me, why are you calling me?" Rong Yan looked at her with an almost mocking smile.