After failing to retort several times, Zhao Youxi's face had turned red in rage. She raised her hand and tried to slap her.
But Zhao Youlin seemed to have expected she would do this. Her face grew stern. She locked Zhao Youxi's wrist, dragged her forward and pinned her down on the desk.
With a thud, Zhao Youxi collapsed directly on the table when she was dragged forward by Zhao Youxi. Her stomach that hit the desk directly hurt so much that she let out a muffled grunt.
Grimacing, she raised her head and was about to curse, only to find that Zhao Youlin's face was just a few centimeters away from her own. Her hands were being locked. She was unable to move.
