C2208 Fist Talking

Under the dim yellow light of the parking lot, a skinny and weak figure slowly got out of a Mercedes-Benz S600. He stared at Zhu Xi with undisguised disdain and arrogance.

He was wearing an expensive Italian hand-made silk shirt with beige slacks, a shirt with two buttons undone to reveal his pale skin, and a good piece of jade hanging from his neck