His timid appearance made the other wealthy young men burst into laughter.
"This fool is chicken, haha."
"Yeah, racing is very dangerous, you should go back to cleaning toilets at your little hotel."
...
Everyone mocked Yang Fei incessantly.
In the midst of the laughter, Yang Fei held up three fingers.
He said lazily, "Deal, three rounds of betting races, ten million per round, losers scram!"
At his words, all laughter abruptly stopped.
Everyone's eyeballs nearly popped out.
God, when it comes to racing, this guy is more excited than anyone else.
Brother Song and Fang Tang exchanged glances.
The fierceness in the corner of Fang Tang's eyes flashed by, and he stealthily made a throat-slitting gesture.
Brother Song nodded in understanding.
The two of them were thinking almost exactly the same.
This despicable odd-job man at the hotel probably hadn't even touched the hair of a racing car, let alone raced one.