He raised his head and looked into her eyes. "Otherwise, why would I shamelessly ask you to compensate for the computer?"
Tang Xiang was speechless.
Such a childish ghost.
She picked up another glass of wine, and before her lips even touched the rim, Jiang Xiaolin snatched it away. "Your stomach is weak," he drank the wine, "and your tolerance for alcohol is even worse."
"..."
Indeed, her tolerance was poor; once, when she had drunk too much, she ended up hitting him.
Neither of the young masters of the Jiang family liked social engagements—one would be drinking with a beauty on his right, and the other chatting leisurely with a friend on his left.
"How did you get your hands on the MondenGorup shares?"
