The crystal chandelier in the box was still shaking.
The broken red wine glass was stuck into the carpet, and the dark red wine spread out into a large area, mixed with a few drops of fresh blood. Fu Jue stood in front of the sofa, with the cuffs of his shirt rolled up to his forearm, and the flesh of his right hand was turned over with a cut in the tiger's mouth. Blood dripped down between his fingers and dripped on his custom-made leather shoes worth tens of thousands of dollars.
No one dared to move.
Three waiters stood in a row against the wall. The one closest to the door was shaking. Four or five well-dressed young people were slumped on the sofa in the corner. Each one shrank deeper than the other and even breathed deliberately softly.
"Who the hell asked you to change the wine?" Fu Jue kicked the coffee table again, and the solid wood corner of the table hit his calf. He didn't even move his eyebrows. "Can't you hear what I said? Or do you think I'm being fooled?"
The foreman was kneeling on the ground, his forehead hitting the floor, and his whole body was shaking like chaff.
Zhao Ming, who was standing next to him, touched Chen Tuo with his elbow and lowered his voice: "It's over. It's not easy for anyone to come today. The last time we smashed it in Shenghai, we lost more than three million yuan -"
Chen Tuo responded with his mouth: Shut up.
Fu Jue turned his head, and Zhao Ming swallowed back half of his words in an instant. He didn't even have time to squeeze out a smile, and turned his face away to look at the wall.
"Okay."
Fu Jue said this word very softly, but everyone present shrank back without exception. They know this man very well - he doesn't yell when he is really angry. The quieter he is, the more dangerous he is.
