One minute...
Two minutes...
The once fair complexions of the two men now displayed a faint flush.
Sweat beads had formed on their foreheads.
Looking at their hands clasped together, the paleness had given way to a bluish tinge due to the excessive force, with blood circulation disrupted.
Nan Yan calmly sipped half of her milk tea and, seeing the two still locked in a contest of strength, spoke up:
"Enough already. You're both grown-ups, don't act so childish."
The two men, unable to outdo each other, exchanged a resentful glance, and finally, under Nan Yan's gaze, released their grip simultaneously.
Once they retrieved their hands, they discreetly rubbed them under the table, trying to alleviate the numbing pain in their palms.
After a couple of minutes, Shen Junqing's complexion returned to normal. His mesmerizing peach blossom eyes narrowed slightly, and he smiled as he asked, "Nan Yan, how's the taste?"