"Cough..."
Han Qi fell off the sofa, wiped his mouth-corner, unable to discern whether it was red wine or his own blood.
Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nan Jiaojiao approaching him. Frightened, he shuddered and pressed his back firmly against the leg of the sofa, looking up at the woman holding the broken bottle.
He laughed, "Happy, I'm extremely happy."
Nan Jiaojiao gave him a look as if he were a pervert.
It was impossible to find any aesthetic pleasure in a man who was smiling at her with a mouth full of blood.
She touched her Bluetooth earpiece and said, "In VIP Room 906, Master Han has ordered ten thousand bottles of Remy Martin."
"How much?!"
The waiter was dozing in the wine cellar and jolted awake upon hearing the number. "Are you sure Master Han personally ordered it?"
Nan Jiaojiao kept her composure, "Yes."
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