Yuan Qiran immediately wanted to hang up the phone in his hand. The one who had always been the object of his ridicule and contempt now had their roles reversed—the taste of this reversal was somewhat bittersweet.
Yuan Qiran moved quickly, but Huayin was even faster.
She seemed to have anticipated Yuan Qiran's move, taking a quick step with a swiftness that didn't match her delicate willowy figure, and rushed forward to snatch the phone from Yuan Qiran's hand.
Then clutched it tightly in her hands and held it to her ear, instantly jumping several meters away from Yuan Qiran, her eyes warily watching him as if afraid he would fight her for it again.
Yuan Qiran was stunned as he watched Huayin's smooth sequence of actions, unable to recover his senses for quite some time.
Huayin's eyes stayed fixed on the person opposite her, but her tone carried a hint of pitiable helplessness.
