The bald-head spat. His face had a knife scar, and his mouth was slanted to one side. He looked at Yin Shaojie's sports car, his eyes filled with greed as he said rudely, "Since you're a young master from a rich family, you must be loaded, right? Splurge a little. How does 500,000 yuan sound? It should be peanuts to you, right?"
Yin Shaojie had one hand in his pocket. His tall and erect body stood casually and aloof. His classiness made him look composed.
He slowly walked towards the man and smiled, looking unfazed. "500000 yuan? That's peanuts. I wouldn't pick it up if I found it."
Hearing this, his eyes glimmered. "So you agree then? Hurry and give us the money! I will accompany you—ah!"
Before he could finish speaking, Yin Shaojie delivered a kick to his stomach, and the bald-head fell back, kneeling in pain as he covered his stomach.
