Thinking of that unpleasant moment before, Rong Zhenghao expression grew even darker.
"Forget it. I'll go ask him myself."
When Rong Zhenghao hung up the phone, the heavy pressure around him felt frightening.
No one would ever imagine that the elegant, gentle and perfectly mannered film emperor who shone on stage and on camera could have such a side in private.
He said he would go ask Xiaoyu personally, but he impatiently tossed his phone onto the table beside him.
He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and let out a slow sigh.
His long fingers rubbed the area between his eyebrows again and again.
His assistant, Tang Xinci, stood carefully to the side. Seeing his mood, he didn't even dare speak loudly.
Feeling guilty, Tang Xinci whispered, "Brother Rong… I… I'm really sorry. This whole thing is my fault…"
Rong Zhenghao opened his eyes and glanced at Tang Xinci before saying, "Forget it. I can't blame you."
