Mu Fan's eyes brightened by another five points, and he subconsciously ignored the garish red eyeshadow and bizarre shorts in their reflection.
He stood up and grabbed the other party's hands.
"What else is there?"
White Hair, with a face resembling someone with constipation, pulled his hands away, "Can we talk without holding hands?"
"The key point is, even among imitation goods, there are levels. The lowest level is just copying blindly. The high-end imitation is like changing the soup but not the medicine!"
At this point, a mysterious gleam appeared in White Hair's eyes.
