The director was dismissive, "Who could it be but a pretty boy? Old Niu, your psychological resilience is lacking. How does an ordinary person scare you like this..."
Old Niu's face turned ashen, his eyes vacant, mumbling to himself, "It's over... It's over... It's over..."
"Old Niu, what's wrong? Speak up, why would a pretty boy scare you like this?" The director patted his shoulder, offering heartfelt comfort.
Old Niu slumped to the ground, utterly despondent, "Bo Yimo, the youngest son of Mr. Bo from Beijing, the grandson of Old Master Bo, a top figure of the pyramid. When he stamps his foot, Beijing trembles. We... we're finished..."
They are people from completely different worlds; their small-time director couldn't possibly mingle with those at the top, so it's normal for Old Wang not to recognize him. He was lucky to have seen him once, a memory etched forever.
The director's face turned white as a sheet, "You, you said what?"
Impossible, definitely fake, not real.
