It turned out that after Xu Zhou appeared, the arrogant man's expression returned to his usual arrogance. He even squinted his eyes, lit a cigar, and raised the corners of his lips in contempt.
Although there was a gun on his forehead, he had nothing to be nervous about with this beautiful oriental woman around.
He saw the tension in the Chinese man's eyes and his concern for the woman.
Slowly, the vein in his forehead throbbed, nearly crushing the cigar.
The scarlet eyes raised up, staring at the beautiful oriental woman, smiling grimly,
"Was the game tonight exciting? My beautiful lady, are you heartbroken to see your beloved man turned into a lamb to be slaughtered in the casino?"
On this cold night, in this icy, oppressive environment, Liu Zhiyuan's clear little face was pale. Her soft, pastel-colored hair draped a bit messily over her shoulders. Her cold, soft face tilted as she whispered, "Have you heard of the idiom 'Ye Gong likes dragons?'"
The arrogant man froze, shrugged, and the madness in his eyes intensified: "Tell me, my beautiful Chinese woman."
Liu Zhiyuan endured the heartache and smiled, but her eyes were cold and she whispered,
"In fact, in Greek mythology, there are similar stories and meanings, which means that you always like to watch death take other people's lives in various cruel, playful or bloody ways, and seek excitement from death.
But if death finds you one day, would you dare to lose your life just for fun? In China, such people are called "cowards." I don't know how to say it in English..."
When her gaze shifted to Song Ling, it immediately became soft and warm.
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