It really is true that enemies often cross paths.
This time, before Jiang Qimeng could spout her acerbic satire, Wan Yu sneered first, "Such bad luck! I didn't check the almanac before going out. How did I end up running into trash? It's nauseating!"
"Who are you calling foul-mouthed?"
Jiang Qimeng dropped her pretense. With no Xiang Yao, her lackey, at her side and surrounded by onlookers, she didn't want to become a laughingstock. Enraged, she looked ready to pounce on Wan Yu and rip her mouth apart.
Wan Yu wasn't one to be trifled with either. Hand on hip, she challenged provocatively, "Whether our mouths are foul or not, men still kiss us and get passionately entwined with us. But when you throw yourself at Si Yuhuan, does he even spare you a glance?"
"Oh! Look at my memory—he dumped you, didn't want you anymore, right? Or do your friends here not know yet?"
