Lu Lingche stared into her eyes, seeing her gaze clear and unwavering, he knew she was not lying.
But his cheek hurt terribly, a continuous and intense pain, as if thousands of fine needles were piercing his face, making it difficult to breathe.
He asked somewhat reluctantly, "Do you have any anesthetic?"
"No, just bear with it for half an hour, it'll be fine after the massage."
Lu Lingche's face revealed a conflicted expression, as if he was weighing whether to endure this inhuman torture for half an hour or brazenly attend the shareholders' meeting with his bruised face.
Seeing his struggle, Qiao Yin couldn't help but giggle, "Lu Lingche, are you scared of pain? How old are you? Isn't this embarrassing?"
Lu Lingche glared at her, "Why don't you try to feel how painful it is yourself, it's as if I've just gone through hell."
"Is it really that painful?"