Bai Chuwei held a rose in her hand, the petals with dew gently brushing against the man's chest, akin to a breeze of spring passing by. She leaned in very close, her voice seductive as she said, "How about following me? I can make you the richest man in China, and I can protect you."
This was how the renowned eight great families of China came to be, seeking their ancestors' blessings and willingly serving them generation after generation.
Duan Xingye blurted out from the side, "Isn't this just asking someone to be a lackey?" He was willing, oh, how he wished to sign up!
Tsk—would becoming an ancestor's lackey treat you unfairly?
Duan Feihan's eyes, which were slightly bright just moments before, gradually turned cold. He stepped back, creating distance from Bai Chuwei, and his thin lips suddenly pressed into a straight line as he said indifferently, "I refuse."
Bai Chuwei was taken aback, "?"
Refuse?
