"This..." Ye Chen immediately felt uneasy inside. He hadn't anticipated that Zhang Bufan was here to disrupt his event.
"What's wrong? A friend of the prince, Mr. Iraq arms dealer, surely you wouldn't attend a birthday party without bringing a gift?" Zhang Bufan grinned, then took out a box of cigars from his pocket, authentic Cuban imports. He took one out, put it in his mouth, grinned, and said, "Of course, if you didn't bring one, it's fine. I've heard arms dealers use cards everywhere, and one card holds billions, tens of billions. You wouldn't have forgotten your card too, right?"
"This..." Ye Chen patted himself down but couldn't produce anything decent.
