A Knife...

Inside the lounge was a large bed—or rather, a gigantic bed.

It was enough to accommodate five or six people sleeping together.

The White Clothed Woman, Li Qingyue, was curled up on the huge bed. Even her tall figure appeared somewhat petite.

Ye Qiu sized the woman up. Her features were delicate, her skin fair and lustrous, and her figure fiery—not inferior to Chen Chi's in the slightest. Compared with Wen Ning, that tender little fruit, she was far, far more mature.

Drunk, a rosy flush had spread to her earlobes. Her eyes were tightly shut, and her long lashes, like palm-leaf fans, fluttered faintly from time to time.

Her curled body traced an exquisite curve, displaying her proud figure in all its glory.

Ye Qiu could not help feeling a little heated, but the moment that heat arose, an uncontrollable sense of guilt followed.

Though that little bastard Li Xingchen was not much of a person, he was still Ye Qiu's brother.

How could he entertain such filthy thoughts?

He turned around and went downstairs. Before long, Ye Qiu came back up, with two figures following behind him.

They were Chen Chi and Wen Ning.

"We're doing it together. Can you handle it?" Chen Chi asked without the slightest restraint.

Ye Qiu was already used to it and replied naturally, "Don't you know what I'm capable of?"

He brought the two of them into the enormous, luxurious lounge, then shut and locked the door.

In the shadows, Liu Yun and the other two poked their heads out. They exchanged glances, then grinned lewdly.

"Rich people really know how to play..." they sighed before turning and leaving.

Inside the room, when Chen Chi and Wen Ning saw the unconscious Li Qingyue, they almost simultaneously tilted their heads to look at