“Crash, ”
A thug kicked the door of the rundown teahouse off its hinges.
The pockmarked thug planted his hands on his hips and pointed at the slender young woman crouched on the ground sorting tea leaves. “Su Qinghe! Your aunt says this teahouse belongs to her now. Get out!”
Su Qinghe looked up. Her features were gentle, her skin as fair as snow, and she seemed too frail to stand.
“This teahouse belongs to my parents. I’m not giving it up.”
“You’re asking for it!”
The pockmarked man raised his hand and slapped at her delicate face!
The watching customers squeezed their eyes shut, convinced the frail tea girl was about to be beaten half to death.
The next moment
“Crack!”
A piercing scream rang out!
Su Qinghe was still crouching where she had been. With a light touch, she caught the thug’s wrist and gave it a gentle twist.
His wrist bent at a grotesque angle!
“Ah! My hand!”
The pockmarked thug fell to his knees and rolled on the ground in agony.
Su Qinghe released him and leisurely wiped her fingertips. Beneath her gentle gaze lay a glint of ice.
“Keep causing trouble, and it won’t be just your hand I break.”
The whole room fell silent.
No one had expected this sweet, seemingly meek tea girl to strike so viciously!
Just then, the bamboo curtain was lifted.
A man in dark robes stood backlit, handsome and cold, his presence imposing. His gaze locked firmly onto her as his thin lips parted.
“Shopkeeper, I’ll have a pot of tea brewed by your own hand.”
Su Qinghe’s fingers paused.
This man’s stare was terrifying.
It was as if he could see through every disguise she wore.
