C28 Seven years of hell

Ziyan Qing’s steps halted sharply. He turned to face the lady from the front desk.

His eyes—ice-cold, burning with fury—locked on her face.

The woman trembled. Even the oppressive cold of the room wasn’t as chilling as the weight of his gaze. She instinctively touched her bare arms, goosebumps spreading like frost under his stare. Lowering her head, she bowed silently, unable to meet his eyes