A few people were discussing, laughing out loud, their words and image completely at odds with what was shown on cara—vulgar and unremarkable.
John Lynch stood to one side, his hand loosening its grip on the coffee, spilling it all over Woody Harrison.
He was the one whose words had been the most offensive just now.
Being splashed with hot coffee—even if it wasn’t extrely hot—Woody Harrison still erupted on the spot, violently throwing down his lunchbox and swiftly grabbing John Lynch by the collar and shoving him against the wall.
"Damn it, you did that on purpose!"
His fists clenched, ready to throw a punch, but he was restrained by the others in the team.
Even if they couldn’t stand John Lynch, they still had to perform on stage soon, and if John Lynch were visibly injured, it would only make things worse for them.
News of bullying within the team couldn’t leak out.
Woody Harrison glared at John Lynch, visibly irate, his eyes almost spitting fire, "Fine, I’m in a good mood today and won’t hit you. Clean my shoes until they’re spotless."
He let go, pointing to his own shoes, "These shoes cost ten grand a pair, so kneel and clean them for !"
Actually, his shoes were not dirty at all; this was simply an excuse to make things difficult for John Lynch.
The others enjoyed the spectacle and certainly were not inclined to stand up for John Lynch.
They had always been irritated to see John Lynch get more attention and fans than they did, just because of his handso face.
And today wasn’t the first ti sothing like this had happened.
No matter how good-looking or popular you are, without any backing, you’re still crushed rcilessly.
Woody Harrison, arrogant and domineering, spoke each word deliberately, "I told you to kneel, can’t you hear?"
John Lynch hung his head, his black hair concealing his expression, his hands twitching slightly as he said nothing.
"Damn, are you mute?!"
Woody Harrison raised his hand, about to strike.
At that mont, there was a knock on the door.
They were just a newly debuted boy group without much popularity, and their company had spent a lot of money to push them into today’s event; naturally, they didn’t dare to put on airs in front of outsiders.
Woody Harrison gestured with his eyes, and soone promptly went to open the door.
Standing outside was a staff mber responsible for the banquet.
"Do you... need sothing?"
The boys who just a mont ago had a cocky deanor instantly switched to smiling faces.
The staff mber stood emotionless, surveying the room before fixing their gaze on John Lynch, still hanging his head.
Woody Harrison felt a bit on edge.
The staff mber spoke, "Miss Winter said she heard so noise over here and sent to check. If sothing is wrong, you can speak directly to ."
These words were clearly ant for John Lynch.
In the boy’s eyes, which were as still as stagnant water, a sudden change flashed.
Woody Harrison’s facial expression stiffened for a mont, "Miss... Miss Winter?"
In the entertainnt industry, there weren’t many with that surna, and of those able to attend the banquet and command staff, there was only one.
No need for further explanation; everyone understood.
Worried that John Lynch might actually say sothing, Woody Harrison hastily stepped forward, blocking him, "It’s nothing, we were just talking loudly."
John Lynch then lowered his head again.
The staff mber gave Woody Harrison another glance, "You’re about to go on stage soon, better get ready."
Woody Harrison nodded repeatedly and saw the person out.
Once the person had left, Woody Harrison’s expression changed again, glaring fiercely at John Lynch who stood in the corner, "You’ve got so luck, haven’t you? Hannah Winter actually spoke up for you. What, you’ve got a thing going on with her?"
Upon hearing this, John Lynch, who had been silent until now, suddenly looked up with fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white, "Don’t talk nonsense, you can say what you want about , but you shouldn’t talk about Hannah... Miss Winter that way."
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