Mr. Qing Er was tied to the gambling table. He looked at Feng Qing, who was sitting on the motorcycle in a shining black leather jacket and his eyes were shining with stars. Other than the motorcycle, he was the one who had prepared this outfit for Feng Qing. He didn't expect her to be so valiant.
The scar-faced man and his subordinates sized up Feng Qing. The man in front of them has a small stature, with a thin waist and long legs. His skin was snow-white, and his palm-sized face was raised high. He exuded the temperament of a rich second-generation heir and an androgyny. In their eyes, this kind of person was simply a fool who liked to act cool.
The scar-faced man stepped forwards and said in a low voice, "You came at the right time. Take out 10 million, or else we'll throw this boy into the Grand Canal to feed the fish!"
