He stood, slow and deliberate, the tension in the room shifting with him.
Qi Zemin's head tilted up slightly to maintain eye contact, his expression unreadable.
Like a wolf studying a blade.
Jiang Yanxu took his time, circling the chair, his presence looming.
Then—without warning—
A sharp kick sent the empty chair beside Qi Zemin skidding across the floor, the screech of metal against concrete slicing through the heavy air.
His fingers twitched—just barely, but Jiang Yanxu caught it.
Lin Xun exhaled through his nose, watching with detached curiosity.
However, Wi Zemin didn't flinch, showing no reaction at all.
Jiang Yanxu paused, curling his lips at the edges.
He crouched down to Qi Zemin's level, and a low murmur was heard, "You know why you're here, don't you?"
Silence.
Then—
A slow blink.
Qi Zemin's lips parted, and when he finally spoke, his voice was smooth. Calm.
As if he were the one in control.
"You tell me."
