The bespectacled man was utterly shocked, whether by Zhang Fan's age, the force of the punch, or the piece of glass pressed against his neck. Could someone of such a young age really do this?
Damn, that ruthlessness is simply beastly.
"Baldy, the heck are you doing, stop moving!" the bespectacled man roared, then asked, "Kid, do you know who I am?"
Zhang Fan replied disdainfully, "I don't give a damn who you are. You figure it out, the computer monitor, worth seven thousand, this glass on the table, worth three thousand, ten thousand total, not a penny more, not a penny less. You paying cash or sending me a WeChat red packet?"
The corners of everyone's mouths in the room twitched. That crappy computer screen, seven thousand? Get real, it's barely worth one thousand, and that glass from the coffee table, at most five hundred. Flipping your lid and you're quoting ten thousand? That's just ripping people off.
