"How much do we owe?" he asked.
"Around ten million, and we've already paid over eight million," Lin Wanzhou counted on his fingers, "Sold a house and put in the money earned in the past two years."
"You've been in the industry for so long and only earned that much?" Xu Qingyan was stunned.
"I've been out for a long time, but I haven't been popular," said Lin Wanzhou with a wronged look, "It's only been since last year that I started to make some money, and that year was really the only time I earned a significant amount."
"This..." Xu Qingyan rubbed his forehead, "It's okay, we'll earn it back this time."
The recording studio was bustling, and the two walked side by side toward the inside as the automatic glass door slowly closed behind them. Their blurred reflections stretched out on the floor tiles like melting ice towers.
Noon.
Pei Muchan gazed at the empty seat in front of her, lost in thought.
Where is he?
