"Three, two..."
Yan Xiaye's clear black and white eyes widened slightly, a look of painful struggle appearing on Qingmei's delicate face.
She struggled desperately in the depths of her mind, her crimson lips slightly parted as if she wanted to say something.
The magician just looked at her with sorrow, casually uttering the last word, "One!"
As his voice fell, the magician snapped his fingers crisply, watching Yan Xiaye come to her senses, her expression bewildered.
Quietly collecting the milk cup she had drunk from, he asked with apparent concern, "Miss Yan, do you feel uncomfortable anywhere?"
"I..."
Yan Xiaye's mind was in chaos, and it took her a full two or three minutes to remember who the man opposite was and why she was sitting here.
Thinking she had probably zoned out due to excessive worry, she smiled complexly, "I'm fine, is there anything else I need to do?"
