The assistant's gaze made Shang Qingrao feel a surge of anger. She suddenly grabbed the eyebrow pencil knife on the table and swung it at her hand.
"I hired you to work, not to come here and question what your boss says! What do you mean? Are you questioning if there's something wrong with my makeup?
So you think I look like this naturally? Want to laugh at me?!"
The young assistant clutched her hand in pain, tears streaming down continuously.
Fortunately, the eyebrow pencil knife wasn't very sharp and only left a scratch on the back of her hand, but Shang Qingrao's strength was considerable. The dull knife cutting into flesh made the assistant view the woman in front of her as terrifying and dreadful.
"Sister, I didn't mean that; I didn't."
She had kept doubts in her heart, but there was no way she truly believed that's how Qingrao looked.
Shang Qingrao's beauty was universally acknowledged; who would question her appearance?
"I'll do your makeup for you."
"No need!"
