Peng Shaohe was at a loss for words, only able to stare blankly at An Yiqing.
"You little girl, you've got a way with words! No wonder Old Duan said you have a sharp tongue!"
"Nonsense! When did I ever say Xiao Qing has a sharp tongue? I said Xiao Qing has a Seven-Orifice Exquisite Heart!" Duan Jingning quickly denied, afraid that An Yiqing might misunderstand.
An Yiqing pursed her lips in a smile as she looked at the two elderly men and said, "Grandpa Peng, whether you call me sharp-tongued or shifty-eyed, whatever you say, as long as you agree to it, I'll help!"
Peng Shaohe shook his head helplessly and glanced at Peng Ze's father, curling his lips.
"How much do you want?"
An Yiqing beamed and held up four fingers, as white as scallions, "Not much, just give me a little more. I want forty percent!"
"Hmph! Consider yourself kind-hearted, I thought you would ask for fifty percent!" Peng Shaohe snorted with satisfaction, his eyes unable to hide the humor.
