"Please package all of this for me. Thank you for your trouble," Chen Zheng said.
"You're too kind, sir. It's our job," the clerk replied with a smile, noting down the medicinal herbs Chen Zheng required.
Just then, Li Weiqiang and Zhao Xue'er walked over, glancing at the list the clerk had just written.
"Twenty-five-year-old ginseng, and you're only getting five grams?" Zhao Xue'er's face filled with mockery. "Haha! I heard you're worth millions now. Is that all you're spending? What good is twenty-five-year-old ginseng? Are you going to take it home and make soup for your dog?"
Chen Zheng ignored her taunts. His philosophy on shopping was simple: need drives the purchase, and money buys satisfaction.
However, when Chen Zheng didn't respond, Zhao Xue'er mistook his silence for cowardice and pressed her advantage.
