Ye Cheng stared at a bunch of hairs with a purple tuft in it, which looked a little like Uncle McDonald's moustache on his lips. "Well, good grandson! Shout again, give the red envelope."

Several of his hairy companions gathered around him and, without saying a word, picked up the empty bottle on the edge and smashed it at Yecheng. "Stop fucking talking to him, kill him, go back and collect money."

"Hey, boy, the bottle is in reverse. How can you smash it on your head? It hurts so much!" Ye Cheng shouted at the mixer who threw the bottle. He rubbed oil on the soles of his feet...