Dragging her suitcase out of the room, Ning Qinghan stood by the stair railing, watching her.
In her hand was a glass cup, more than half-filled with a dark, murky liquid.
As Ning Guiwan approached, Ning Qinghan stepped forward to block her path, her pale face showing a smug expression. "Being kicked out twice must feel terrible, right?"
Ning Guiwan looked over, her eyes devoid of emotion.
She wore a two-piece skirt suit, black and sleeveless. The top was slightly short, faintly revealing a section of her svelte waist.
Fair-skinned and red-lipped, she was exquisitely charming.
Her expression was indifferent, as if she were watching a trivial jester.
Ning Qinghan especially hated this demeanor of hers. Clearly, her reputation was in tatters, and she should have been keeping a low profile, yet she insisted on putting on such a high and mighty act.
An idea sparked in her mind. Before she could even think it through clearly, her hands had already acted.
