Song Yi leaned against the chair, lowering her gaze and moving it away, no longer looking at the man in uniform.
She smiled lightly, an enchanting charm between her beautiful brows and eyes, yet it was all indifferent and contemptuous. When her alluring eyes met his, a cold and eerie allure was unexpectedly born.
"Is that it?" Her gaze fell on the director: "Are your eyes blind? Where does it look like?"
As the woman's indifferent gaze swept over, inexplicably, the director shivered slightly. That gaze had an inexplicable sense of oppression, giving rise to a chill in his heart.
Song Yi leisurely stood up, "Don't bring just anyone in front of me, and don't say anyone looks like him."
As she walked in front of the director, her steps halted, she raised her eyes and stared directly at him, her gaze seductive with a hint of sharpness. It was hard to see if she was angry or held any other emotion, but it just felt oppressive, spine-chilling.
