Han Songyan glared coldly at Bai Xiruo: "There's no need to pretend."

Bai Xiruo chuckled, a hint of mockery in her smile: "I'm genuinely worried about you. You're an international pianist. If something happens to your hands and you can't make this movie, wouldn't I be affected too?"

Han Songyan suppressed her anger and stared expressionlessly at Bai Xiruo, who was beaming with smugness.

He seemed to remember something, and suddenly let out a cold sneer.

Do you know what you remind me of right now?

Bai Xiruo chuckled, seemingly in a good mood. She crossed her arms and sat down in the chair opposite Han Songyan, exuding an air of unfamiliarity and aloofness.

Han Songyan shook her head: "You look just like your birth mother, Zhang Cuiyan."

Bai Xiruo's smile froze instantly, as if her sore spot had been touched. She clenched her hands tightly and stared at Han Songyan with a sinister look.

What she hated most was being compared to Zhang Cuiyan, that rude and ugly woman. Just thinking about how she was born from her made her feel unclean.

Seeing that she had struck a blow to Bai Xiruo, Han Songyan smiled smugly: "Everyone says that parents' genes influence a child's personality. I didn't believe it before, but now I'm convinced. Your mother, Zhang Cuiyan, is a mean, mean, and vulgar rural woman, and you, even though I've carefully nurtured you in the Bai family for twenty years, still have lowly blood flowing through your veins..."

Bai Xiruo's face contorted into a ferocious grimace as she suddenly swung her arm.

"Slap!" The crisp sound of a slap was particularly jarring in the quiet lounge.