The cold red liquid hit his forehead.
It flowed down the bridge of his nose and into his collar, and his cheap white T-shirt was instantly stained red.
Lin Zhou raised his hand and wiped the wine from his face.
Opposite stood Zhao Manman.
Her index finger, which had just finished a French diamond manicure, almost touched the tip of Lin Zhou's nose.
"You're a food delivery guy, do you deserve three Michelin stars?"
Zhao Manman slammed the orange Hermès Birkin bag on the dining table.
The dull banging sound caused the guests at the surrounding tables to look askance.
"Thirty-eight thousand yuan for this meal! If you sell your broken electric donkey for scrap metal, will it be enough to pay for the service fee?"
Lin Zhou lowered his head and remained silent.
[The god-level drama system has been activated.
