My hands are dirty now.
Qin Shuang's eyelids trembled slightly as she slowly regained her composure and turned her head to glance at Lin Shan's face.
Lin Shan had deliberately positioned her bruised face towards He Zhiyao to show him her miserable state. The sound of Qin Shuang's slap was loud, but she hadn't really used much force. After a short while, the mark was nearly invisible.
But Lin Shan was wearing heavy makeup, and Qin Shuang's slap smeared foundation and lipstick onto her hand.
Qin Shuang instantly snapped back to reality.
That freak He Zhiyao wasn't angry because she had caused trouble by hitting someone; he was furious that she, his meticulously chosen and well-trained tool, had dared to cross his line.
"I... I'll go wash it off right now," Qin Shuang, having realized what was happening, immediately responded in a docile and gentle tone.
"Whoever made it dirty will clean it," He Zhiyao's gaze finally fell on Lin Shan. "Isn't that right?"
Lin Shan was stunned.