Li Qingshen's expression at this moment bore a hint of sternness, and his tone followed with some sharpness, "So, Miss Jian, do you think my student Ling Momo needs someone like you to yield to her?"
That disdainful tone and cutting words, transmitted clearly through the microphone, entered the ears of everyone present.
Jian Chenxi clutched her hands tightly, her long nails forcibly snapped off in her palm, and a wet, sticky liquid slowly flowed out.
Lu Niange's face had also turned pale, his brows furrowed, and even his normally gentle face now showed a layer of anger.
But though he was angry, he dared not speak out.
Not just Lu Niange, even the reporters below the stage were shocked by Li Qingshen's last sentence.
Each of them wore a stunned look, still echoing with the sharp words in their ears.
The scene fell into a strange silence.
