"Please come this way, you two. Mr. Wang is quite busy, so please keep an eye on the time."
Li Ye and Cong Jinhong received VIP treatment, cutting in line to enter Wang Bingxian's courtyard. The moment they stepped inside, they received a "friendly reminder," but the person delivering it made Li Ye deeply uncomfortable.
The man's expression seemed neither servile nor overbearing, yet his eyes carried the same haughty condescension and mockery as a seventh-rank official standing before a prime minister's gate.
The problem was, your master wasn't even a prime minister, was he? He was just a middleman who pulled strings. What the hell were you acting so high and mighty for?
When Li Ye and Cong Jinhong entered Wang Bingxian's reception room, they felt even more out of place.
It was dazzling—gold everywhere, blindingly dazzling.
The décor of Wang Bingxian's reception room could be summed up in one color from later generations—nouveau riche gold.
Back when people bought fruit-brand phones, they had to pay extra for the nouveau riche gold color. Tell me, wasn't this man twenty years ahead of his time?
Wang Bingxian, seated in a Chinese-style chair, wore a dark-gold silk padded jacket. At a glance, it made people think of one phrase—great wealth and high rank.
And Wang Bingxian's every word and movement had plenty of style. When he saw Li Ye and Cong Jinhong enter, he merely raised a hand slightly and pointed at the Gaiwan teaware on the coffee table, without even shifting his backside.
"Sit. Have some tea."
Cong Jinhong sat down with a smile, took a sip, and praised, "Mr. Wang, you're far too generous with your hospitality. Tea like this probably isn't something one can buy just by having money, is it?"
"Hehe, Sister Cong, saying that makes us