Xiang Yi listened quietly to her explanation, his calm face devoid of any expression.
“Afterwards, Zhimei and I left. I don’t know why, but Zhimei was walking behind me when she suddenly threw a juice cup at her and kicked her hamstring. Zhimei was forced to kneel on the glass shards.” An Zhihan’s eyes were full of tears. She turned her head and pointed at Qiao Zhimei, who was still sitting on the chair waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
Following her line of sight, Qiao Zhimei’s knee was indeed dripping with blood. A flesh-colored silk stocking was dyed red by the blood. It looked a little shocking.
Was that really Nuannuan’s so-called?
Xiang Yi turned his head and his deep gaze fell on the face of the person in front of him. He saw her pair of beautiful eyes staring straight at an Zhihan.