"No metaphors either."
Ultimately soft-hearted, Bao Ye looked at her red lips, gently rubbing them with his finger as he instructed, "In Beijing, if you want someone's life, there are many ways to do it. Doing it yourself is the stupidest way."
Jiang Ruan certainly knew, especially for powerful and influential families, killing someone is as easy as killing an ant.
The simplest way is to create an accident.
When people die, they compensate; paying those hundreds of thousands is as simple as buying some fruit or vegetables at home.
So in the eyes of many wealthy people, someone without family or background is essentially as worthless as grass.
"By the way, speaking of this, there's something I want to ask you. I've been meaning to ask it but kept forgetting," Jiang Ruan said.
"Go ahead." Bao Ye withdrew his hand, resting it on her waist. The silk robe felt exceptionally smooth, and his cool fingertips brushed against it.
