Ten minutes later, Ren Zhong met Yang Bingzhong in the general manager's office downstairs.
He emerged from the restroom, his eyes slightly red, seemingly having just splashed his face with cold water, with water droplets still clinging to his short hair.
"You're here? Have a seat."
Yang Bingzhong forced a slightly strained smile and greeted him.
Without waiting for Ren Zhong to speak, he slumped onto the sofa, rubbed his face, then let his hand rest weakly on the armrest, with his broad shoulders slackening.
Just from these small details, Ren Zhong realized that Yang Bingzhong's meticulously designed body language had crumbled.
Even his ability to bluff had deteriorated significantly.
There's no need to ask; Ren Zhong already knew the answer.
Indeed, as he had predicted, bankruptcy had occurred.
