"Bang."
Jiang Tao slapped his palm down, placing two red hundred-yuan bills onto the glossy, polished chicken-wing wood tea table beside him.
The bright red color stood out starkly against the dark wood grain and the antique tea set.
Ma Jingsong's gaze instinctively followed the red color, fixing on the two hundred-yuan bills.
His brow instantly knotted into a frown, and his pupils involuntarily contracted.
Two hundred?
What does this Jiang guy mean?
Paying for the tea he just drank?
No way!
As Ma Jingsong thought of a possibility, his heart immediately tightened!
200!
This Jiang guy can't be asking for two million, can he?
Why doesn't he just go rob someone!
This isn't just a big loss anymore.
This is practically treating him, Old Ma, like a fat sheep ready to be slaughtered, like cutting off a whole leg!
Anger!
In that moment, Ma Jingsong was burning with anger inside, but he didn't dare to erupt, his old face turning beet red.
