Yang Zheyan smiled, tracing the rim of the teacup with his index finger. Coming to a stop, he looked up at the unwavering eyes of Xiong Jingfei, "You knew all along, didn't you?"
"I have no idea what you are referring to, young master Yang Zheyan." Xiong Jingfei replied, addressing him by his real name. Instead of the fake name that was given to her after their market experience.
Yang Zheyan opened his white fan with nothing on it besides one famous poem line. He flapped it at a slow pace with a smile that became more potent with her response. A smile that felt like it saw right through you. By also putting fear into your bones for eternity. Usually, this smile of his will began to make others confess their deepest darkest secret to him.