"Are you an art student specializing in painting?"
The waitress didn't understand art, but given that Lin Baici could create such an exquisite portrait with just sauce, he would likely do even better with paint.
The waitress wanted a painting, even if it meant paying for it, not considering the future fame of this man and the appreciation of his works. His skill alone was worth buying a piece for.
Lin Baici was about to refuse, but suddenly he heard rapid footsteps and turned to see a group of people entering the White Dew Restaurant.
There were twelve of them, all men. The three at the forefront were dressed in suits and leather shoes, and those behind wore shorts and brightly colored, simply cut Hawaiian shirts, flamboyantly patterned like a bunch of toads.
In their hands seemed to be weapons like daggers, wrapped in newspapers, about one foot long.
After they entered, the noisy atmosphere in the barbecue restaurant suddenly quieted, as if someone had hit the pause button.
