In a luxury suite in Beijing's East Asia Hotel, 11:30 p.m
Zhao Yu briefly paused to enjoy watching the snow falling outside the window before he closed the curtain, went over to his desk, and began to read his speech in preparation for tomorrow's press conference. However, before beginning, he could not help but sigh as he thought about what happened in the restaurant earlier that day.
What's wrong with me?
Zhao Yu knew clearly that today's fight should not have happened, and it was all his fault. Neither the seven people, who had been eating at the next table, nor even the middle-aged man had done anything wrong. They had simply suggested for him to control his volume.
They had no malice towards him, so he definitely shouldn't have lost his temper, much less have thrown a stool! Honestly, he did not even know why he had done it. It was almost like some kind of instinctive reaction.