Li Qing returned to the living room and selected a can of green tea from Secretary Zhou's exceptionally rich collection of teas, brewing a little for himself.
The old silver coin, Secretary Zhou, who had a penchant for backstabbing, would probably drop dead on the spot if he knew not only was Li Qing drinking his tea, but later he planned to ruthlessly trample his beautiful and charming wife underneath.
Having had less than three or four cups of tea, the two beautiful cooks, Lu Furong and Sister Hu, had the midnight snack ready.
Steamy copper pot lamb hot pot.
In this weather that's on the verge of winter, having such a pot was indeed quite comforting.
After Lu Furong arranged all the dishes on the dining table, she took out a bottle of baijiu.
"We're drinking a bit today, too?" Li Qing, who was drinking tea to sober up, was a bit confused.
He racked his brain, wondering if today was some special occasion.
But couldn't think of any.
