"Mr. Qin, since your secretary is drunk, why don't I find her a room to rest properly… As for the terms of our cooperation afterward… It's absolutely seventy-thirty—seventy for you, thirty for me."
Qin Mu: "…"
Son of a bitch old fox…
Qin Mu looked at the man in front of him with disgust, his dark eyes brimming with fierce coldness. He swept his icy gaze straight at the man before him, then curled his lips into a mocking sneer.
"Mr. Paul, are you saying that the seventy-thirty split hinges on… this woman being yours tonight?"
Qin Mu's words were blunt to the point. Yet Mr. Paul showed no embarrassment—these kinds of practices were already commonplace in Europe's business circles.
Paul's face was plastered with a smile as he couldn't help but speak in a lecherous tone, "Mr. Qin, you have a sharp eye. This secretary is well chosen… A fruitful partnership indeed."
Qin Mu: "…"
This man, does he truly think Mu Wan is just some object?
