Just as Chen Nan followed the tall, heavily made-up lady to the outside of Room 308, the singing inside had already stopped.
He clearly heard a burst of hearty laughter coming from within.
"Brother Meng, you really know how to make money," someone said. "A five- or six-year-old grapevine worth five thousand yuan, we've really got a lot to learn from you!"
"That's right," another voice chimed in. "Brother Meng's speed of making money is faster than the mint printing currency."
Wang Meng laughed loudly, "As long as you're a bit clever, making money isn't difficult!"
"Brother Meng, what exactly is going on here?" a middle-aged man asked with a puzzled face. "How could that grapevine die just at this critical moment?"
Wang Meng laughed and said, "It's simple. The contract I signed with Nie Xiaoyu was for one year, and it's almost up now. Three days ago, I sneaked into her house and poured half a bottle of pesticide under that grapevine!"
Everyone looked relieved.
