The air was suffused with a faint fragrance, like fat beneath chicken skin sizzling out, like tender chunks of meat turning a slightly charred golden brown—the mingled scent of salt, black pepper, and sesame oil.
Grrr...
Jiang Han clutched her burning, aching stomach, sat up, and opened her eyes.
This was Chen Ligu's office—a not-small, standard witch boss's studio, complete with a reception room, study, music room, home theater, and a loft-style second-floor bath and lounge. The nightmare machine they had used earlier still sat beside the desk in the study.
A stack of pizza and roast chicken boxes lay on the table in the reception room.
With Jiang Han's excellent eyesight, she could naturally make out the label on the roast chicken boxes: [Princess Ailuo's Screaming Chicken]—her favorite roast chicken shop.
"..."
"See? I told you she'd wake up the moment she smelled the food."
Chen Ligu, seated on the reception room sofa, gave a snort of laughter and lifted her chin, her eyes gleaming with spirit.
Beside her, Du Ningzhuang puffed out her cheeks and muttered:
"Fine, fine, it's all yours. All of yours."
She fished a tiny purse from her pocket, pulled out two thirty-five-yuan banknotes (yes, the witch world had a thirty-five denomination), and reluctantly handed one each to Chen Ligu and Chu Yujun, who was making a fist-pumping gesture.
"..."
They had used something utterly improper for their bet.
Jiang Han sat up, deciding she could not let this slide. She trotted over in small steps, plopped down between them, curled up on the sofa, and held out her hands to Chen Ligu and Chu Yujun.
"Dividends! Cat... I absolutely will not allow you to use me as your betting stake and not give me a cut!"
"Sis, I knew you were unreasonable, but I