Can I Eat Your Tofu?

Mo Wen stuck both of his hands in his pocket. He appeared calm and at ease as he walked over to the stunning Lamborghini convertible sports car.

Gu Jingman leisurely leaned against the back of the seat, wearing a pair of black sunglasses. She had a thin, long cigar in her hand, and the smoke was spiraling upwards. Her slender fingers had rose-imprinted nail polish on them, and a cool, unruly look was plastered on her mouth. Her frivolous appearance was full of the style of the nouveau riche.

"Get in," Gu Jingman stroked her sharp chin and said to Mo Wen.

"What is it? I'm a busy man."

Mo Wen's mouth curled upwards. He opened the door as he got into the passenger seat.

"Aiyo, I've come to send the money over. You're busy? If you are busy I'll just send it over some other day then."

With the flick of Gu Jingman's slender finger, the cigar drew an arc in the air and accurately landed in the dustbin.