Qin Fen's face turned bright red. He really wanted to say, "Isn't your 'report' a little too insane? Bro, I'm about to suffocate."
Song Shaoqing and Fu Qiang wiped the water off their faces, screaming inwardly, Fuck, what does this even mean? Can ordering food get you a girl too? Female Hooligan felt utterly helpless. What the hell was this? She was just listing the dishes—did she need to press her mouth to his ear to do it?
Qin Fen felt awkward and gave her a push. "Damn, you're way too enthusiastic." After she let go, Big Chef's face was a little red. Her figure was really good.
"Could you recommend some dishes for us? We're hungry, so we'd like something quick!" Qin Fen was no fool. He had figured it out—he could not ask her to "report them one by one." What if she did that for every person?
"Of course, please wait a moment!" The girl left openly and gracefully. Soon, she returned to the carriage with a serving cart, placed several trays on Qin Fen's table, and took out a bottle of champagne.
"This is from me. I really like you. I heard you're going to Fashion Week. Good luck!" The girl was enthusiastic, her gaze burning. Female Hooligan nearly threw up. Could she be any more blatant?
Qin Fen smugly glanced at Song Shaoqing. You want to see me make a fool of myself? Dream on. "Thank you." Then he took out some money and handed it to her. Big Chef was particular about such things and never owed anyone favors. She had given him wine, so he would give her a tip.
The girl shook her head. Qin Fen stood up and grabbed her hand, trying to stuff the money into it.
One was awkwardly