Long fingers lifted the girl's chin, a mild voice softly inquired, "What's your price?"
Her eyes lit up, eagerly grasping his fingers, "What do you think I'm worth?"
Fang Qin's fingers pointed towards He Jing, "How much for her?"
The girl raised an eyebrow, "Her? Twenty thousand a month, I guess."
"Twenty thousand?"
"Mhm." The girl continued to seduce Fang Qin, "Brother, I'm not asking for much, just ten thousand for me."
But in the next second, Fang Qin had already let go of her, pushing her out of his embrace and striding toward He Jing.
"Hey?" The girl was stunned, then realizing something, she cursed at Fang Qin's retreating figure: "Fucking psycho!"
Clutching the serving tray, she stomped off in a huff.
He Jing was busy selling drinks to a young master, the pitch heating up, when suddenly there was a "bang" – a bottle descended from the heavens, crashing into the coffee table and emitting a sound that resonated painfully in one's eardrums.
