However, Jiang Feng knew that persuading someone like Yang Jing was extremely difficult, so he wasn't discouraged. With a slight smile, he took out a cigarette case crafted from pure gold from his pocket. Opening it, he revealed a few black cigars. He handed one to Yang Jing, chuckling:
"These cigars are from the Mamba Snake Tribe in Cuba. The women in that tribe have smooth, rounded, and firm thighs, and these cigars are rolled on those thighs. They are the finest products. Would Mr. Yang like to enjoy one?"
Yang Jing glanced at the cigar and sniffed, showing a regretful expression on his face, "The cigar itself is not bad, but it's tainted with your scent and has already stunk. What a pity, what a pity."
He shook his head repeatedly as he spoke.
Jiang Feng, without a word, closed the pure gold cigarette case and put it away, saying nothing further, but a hint of malice flashed deep in his eyes.
