"Not eating." Mo Qian turned the steering wheel with his long fingers, saying disdainfully.
"Such a delicious thing, and you still despise it. No wonder you'll never enjoy good food—"
*Thud!*
In the blink of an eye, the roasted sweet potato Xi Nanfeng was holding was thrown out the window. His eyes widened, fury rising from his chest: "You ungrateful bastard, Old Mo, you've got some nerve!"
"If you cause any more trouble, I'll throw you out of the car too." The other man coolly tossed out this line.
Xi Nanfeng was livid. He turned his head away, not wanting to look at Mo Qian for even a second.
Not long after, the Maybach pulled up at the entrance of Zimei Club.
The club's main doors were tightly shut, and there wasn't a soul in sight.
Mo Qian had been here more than once and knew there was a back entrance.
He took long strides toward the back door, while Xi Nanfeng, still mourning the loss of his roasted sweet potato, followed behind with a face full of resentment.
