"Slap!"
The slap was crisp and loud, its echo lingering, refusing to fade away. Like precious jade broken on Kunshan mountain followed by the phoenix's cry, like the weeping dew of the lotus mingled with the laughing fragrance of the orchid. Rhythmic as beads both large and small falling onto a jade plate.
Zhao Yuqing had never slapped anyone in her life until now; it was nerve-racking yet thrilling, and there was an inexplicable sense of pleasure.
Now she understood why some domineering people always liked to slap others. How could the word "refreshing" even begin to describe the feeling?
Pan Lian had not expected that Zhao Yuqing, who used to be as meek as a little white rabbit, would actually dare to strike her. She was utterly dumbfounded right then and there.
"You actually dared to slap me?"
