"Is this the vending machine mentioned?" Ling Hong took the phone and gradually approached.
"Yes. That's it. It simply destroys the aesthetic feeling." With his brows knitted tight, Wu Hai was still thinking of that oil painting of his.
After it was sold out, Wu Hai even paid the buyer to redeem it. This was a first. Because of that, he made some concessions to Zheng Jiawei on some matters. Judging from that, one could imagine how Wu Hai treasured that oil painting of People Passing by A Small Restaurant.
But now, this machine that had no aesthetic feeling at all was placed at the door of Yuan Zhou's restaurant. Wu Hai was really unable to tolerate that.
"Indeed. He actually sold the drink over here. What good do these drinks do to people?" It was once in a blue moon where Ling Hong shared the same opinion with Wu Hai on a matter.
Ling Hong never drank those drinks. Without any reason, he just didn't like drinking them.
