'Why does this feel like a scattered jigsaw puzzle?'
A strange look flashed across Hu Qi's face.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. The waiter was here with the food.
Seeing this, Hu Qi pushed his thoughts aside, picked up his chopsticks, and began to eat.
Half an hour later.
The nearly twenty dishes and eight bowls of rice on the table had been eaten clean by Hu Qi, without a single drop left.
Under the admiring gazes of the owner and the waiter, Hu Qi paid the bill and leisurely walked out of the restaurant.
That one meal had cost nearly a thousand.
The original body's pitiful savings had long since been whittled down to almost nothing.
As for the money Hu Qi had now, it naturally came from Wei Fan.
Hu Qi had taken the golden box used to imprison the Dream Eye, melted it down, and sold it to a second-hand gold recycling shop.
Although the price was haggled down a bit, he still made a small profit of over two hundred thousand.
