Two hundred ninety-six, stick one's neck out
Upon seeing the middle-aged man, Fu Zhen's emotions instantly spiraled out of control. He stood up and charged toward the middle-aged man, "I didn't sell the restaurant to you; you stole it, you robber! Give me back my restaurant! Give it back to me!"
The previously mentioned tall man hurried forward to block Fu Zhen.
"I stole it from you? It sounds like you're still dreaming," the middle-aged man said with a disdainful sneer.
"Give me back the restaurant, please… I'm begging you, okay? My whole family depends on this restaurant to make a living. Without it, we can't survive," Fu Zhen pleaded bitterly, knowing he was no match for the adversary.