Zhao Han is an idiot.
Dong Enyu let go of Zhao Han and slowly stood up.
The other woman was covered in mud, her expensive suit stained black, and even her cheek had a smear of dirt.
Without the barrier of her glasses, Zhao Han’s true face was finally revealed.
That face, which should’ve been proud and arrogant, now looked a little vulnerable.
Maybe it was because Dong Enyu had the upper hand—Zhao Han had lost her usual domineering air and could only glare at the woman with a mix of frustration and stubbornness.
Like a little girl who’d...
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