It was fortunate for Sian that the peacock-faced man had stormed off with a fierce expression the moment the announcer began to speak—because frankly, Sian had neither the time nor the patience to deal with that scoundrel.
Sian stood still, unmoving, yet he drew countless gazes with his jade-like face and snow-white hair.
He lifted a glass of red wine from the table and brought it to his lips, but just as his cherry-colored lips touched the rim, a hand reached out from beside him and snatched the glass away.
Lan Qisheng smiled gently, noticing the furrow in Sian's brow.
"This wine is strong, my love—and you're still too young to drink."
The foolish pup looked proud of his nonsense.
Too young?
Doesn't drink?
Wasn't Sian the same person who had emptied the wine cellar at this idiot's villa?
Before Sian could object, Lan Qisheng swiftly downed the wine himself.
Sian: "..."
He did that on purpose. That bastard.
