"Why can't you heat it up? These three steaks were just packed here."
Zhang Fan leaned back in his chair, handing the three packed steaks to the waiter.
Taoist Pojie kept his head down, as if looking for a hole to crawl into.
"But..." The waiter stared at Zhang Fan with a strange look, wanting to argue further.
"That's enough."
At this moment, the manager walked over, picked up the three packed steaks, and quickly said, "Sorry sir, please wait a moment."
With those words, he took the packed boxes to the kitchen.
"What a sin." Taoist Pojie clasped his hands and muttered softly.
"Senior Pojie, what did you say?" Zhang Fan turned his head and asked.
"Oh, nothing... I heard you caught Yin Hu?" Taoist Pojie changed the subject.
"Totally a rumor. It was actually Maoshan Fang Changle who did it." Zhang Fan shook his head and denied it.
Fame is trouble; a fat pig fears being famous. Now, what he dreaded most was becoming known everywhere.
