Zhou Yun smiled and said, "Sure, so let's go talk, why do you think I didn't say anything?"
Gilan Stuer's face immediately changed.
Zhou Yun wasn't afraid of people like Gilan Stuer. She wasn't mixed up in the fashion circle, and she conducted herself with integrity, so what was there to fear.
At just that moment, a silver-haired woman walked over.
She looked to be about fifty years old, but she was very refined—on this night, almost everyone who appeared was very refined, the kind of person you knew had been shuffling through the fame circle for years.
She glanced at Zhou Yun, then whispered something in Gilan Stuer's ear.
Gilan Stuer's face became even more unsightly.
She looked at the other person skeptically and said, "What did you say? Did you make a mistake?"
The silver-haired woman glanced at Zhou Yun again, seeming to be mindful of her presence.
The more this happened, the less inclined Zhou Yun was to leave.
