Yan Zhirou covered her face, speaking with an expression of grievance yet magnanimity.
The male and female colleagues around, upon hearing her, felt even more sympathy toward Yan Zhirou and started giving Yan Xinxin peculiar looks.
"So she's a lunatic!"
"Such a beauty, but she's mentally ill—what a waste!"
Listening to these ignorant remarks about herself, Yan Xinxin felt as if she was about to explode from anger.
Yan Zhirou, that woman, was clearly acting, yet everyone believed her.
"Sis, this is where I work. You should go home first. Mom will be worried if she can't find you."
Yan Zhirou, teary-eyed, spoke in a frail tone.
"Yan Zhirou, stop pretending to be so innocent and understanding. You're the one who's sick!"
Yan Xinxin couldn't hold back and snapped angrily.
"You earn that filthy, immoral money, flaunt your wealth here pretending to be rich, and you even plagiarized my art drafts and claimed them as your own. Aren't you ashamed?!"
