In fact, if he hadn't heard the voice, Fu Qian might have already forgotten this person existed—Xu Meng, who'd given him trouble not long ago.
They'd only met once, four days ago, so Xu Meng's details had practically been wiped from his memory.
Fu Qian had to rack his brain to remember him.
But Xu Meng clearly hadn't forgotten. There was nothing but resentment in that shout.
Fu Qian wasn't surprised. He'd never believed in the idea that one smile could erase a grudge.
Maybe because of Tan Ying, Xu Meng had indeed given up on taking his anger out on Fu Qian.
But they were adults, after all. He could still indulge in the mental victory of imagining Fu Qian being cut to pieces.
The only strange thing was, how had this tough guy's voice ended up in his head?
He and Xu Meng weren't close at all. If he were going to hear things, it shouldn't be Xu Meng.
Fu Qian held his breath and listened carefully.
Half a minute after that resentful shout, the same voice rang out again.
Fu Qian instinctively focused on it.
Whoosh!
The next moment, a dark curtain unfurled, and Fu Qian found the room turning hazy and unreal.
All around him, in the dimmed light, clusters of flickering orbs appeared and vanished.
Xu Meng's resentful voice came from one of them.
Fu Qian reached out and tried touching it.
The next moment, his vision brightened, and an image flashed before him.
Xu Meng sat there, glaring, with a table full of steaming tea in front of him.
A woman in professional attire, her figure full and curvy, stood frozen with fear. Shards of teacups littered the floor nearby.
But there hadn't been any talking!
The image ended quickly. Fu Qian watched the