In the tea room, the woman clutched her tissue, not minding the droplets on her face as she continued to wipe her bag, her heart aching. The bag was too expensive, the lamb skin too precious, difficult to care for. If not to keep up appearances during the New Year when visiting friends and family, she would never have brought it out. With orange tea splashed onto it, the bag might be ruined!
"Tang Wan, you..." Her voice trembled with anger.
Meanwhile, outside, the audience had erupted into applause at the storytelling performance, with someone shouting, "Bravo—"
The couple inside the private room turned pale once again.
"You actually dare... Do you know how much my bag costs?" Ding Anran wished she could rush over and scratch that delicate little face of hers.
"Why wouldn't I dare?" The two across from her watched her, fierce as wolves, as if ready to devour someone.
