Fan Mingzhe wore a playful smile, eagerly anticipating the expression on Xiao Zheng's face when he saw the number.
"Heh heh."
Xiao Zheng casually picked up the check that had three million written on it as if it were a piece of tissue, lazily smiled, and then, right in front of Fan Mingzhe, tore it into strips.
"Such childish people," Xiao Zheng said with a look reserved for an idiot, "you will never understand that money is the lowest thing in this world. It can't buy much of anything."
Xiao Zheng was telling the truth.
To people like them, money was merely a number; if they wanted to, making a few hundred billion seemed like child's play.
At their level, money truly was a trivial matter; what they valued was only power!
"You..."
Upon witnessing this scene, Fan Mingzhe's face flushed with anger, and he suddenly slammed the table, stood up, and yelled, "Xiao Zheng, what exactly do you want? I'm telling you, this is my limit!"
