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At that moment, Chen Mu felt that even the braised pork knuckle wasn't...well, the knuckle was still very fragrant.
But his heartache was genuine.
All he had thought about was treating someone to a drink.
And they had thoroughly enjoyed it.
He, on the other hand, had completely forgotten about the return gift.
It had been so long since he gave gifts, he was getting rusty at it.
Chen Mu looked enviously at the Jie Jia money pouch.
"Take a few more glances, because soon, you won't be able to see it," Jie Jia said nonchalantly, sipping his fish soup.
Chen Mu felt a sudden tightness in his chest.
…
Four days later, in a large courtyard house in the East Market's Blue Armor Lane.
Some thirty or forty gang members were sprawled on the ground, sound asleep.
In a room of the inner courtyard.
Zhang Ye was kneeling on the floor, leaning on the handle of his knife.
He shook his head vigorously, trying his best to open his heavy eyelids.