There was an extra contract on the coffee table.
"What kind of contract is this?" Mi Yao asked.
"Clean man contract." Feng Yueming spat out the four words.
Mi Yao drew in a breath of cold air, "What did you say? Who wants to be your clean man, Feng Yueming..."
"Mi Yao," Feng Yueming elegantly crossed his long legs and interrupted her, "I advise you not to defy me, because the consequence of defying me is not something you can bear. Two years ago, your father caused a fatality due to a policy error, and this matter was suppressed by Feng Zhengyu. If I want to dig it up now, it would be easy. Tell me, how many years do you think your father will get sentenced, five years, ten years, life imprisonment, or maybe, the death penalty?"
Mi Yao's face turned deathly pale, and she took a frightened step back.