Faced with the monk's pleading, the young girl still didn't lift an eyelid, her expression extremely cold, saying indifferently, "No money, go elsewhere; do you think our place is disaster relief aid?"
The monk was somewhat embarrassed, timidly asking:
"Little benefactor, could I keep a tab first? This little monk is also out for collecting payments; I'll pay once I..."
"Scram."
The young girl directly issued an order to leave.
The monk, seeing this, felt utterly helpless, sighed, and turned his gaze to the one-eyed man and the plump woman at the adjacent table.
He stepped forward respectfully, chanting, "Amitabha, benevolent patrons, this little monk is truly parched, could you spare a cup of tea for me?"
The plump woman's eyes rolled, surveying the monk's dust-covered yet still handsome face, and laughed charmingly:
