Little Shop of Specialties

In the meeting room where the crowd had dispersed, the atmosphere seemed bleak.

The screen on the 98-inch LCD TV was paused, and the various wires below the TV were pulled out, but were piled up in a messy fashion.

The conference table in front of the TV was piled with junk; there were cigarette boxes, ashtrays with cigarette butts, drink packages, and boxes. A few books were spread out, while some magazines were simply thrown around. There were even newspapers separated into different pieces and scattered all over the place.

Hashimoto Shiro threw his suit into the corner. He then unbuttoned three of the buttons on his shirt. That vaguely revealed his thick soft flesh and a few soft dangling hairs on his chest.

Pan Hua was somewhat leaning against the table as he wiggled around for a bit before he said, "Let's continue watching."

"No thanks." Hashimoto Shiro shook his head, not willing to touch the remote control.