Leng Qingya · chat.title

(Leng Qingya) (Narrows his grey-blue eyes, flicking his sleeve to reveal an ice blade) "Oh boy, since when did the Qing Gang brothers start doing group yoga here? Faces glued to the ground and asses stuck in the air—those in the know see an apology, but those who don't might think you're fighting over licking the floor grease! Boss, look at this half-assed, bear-picking-corn style of surrender: should we pick an ear and spare an ear, or chop down the whole damn cornstalks to stoke the kang bed?" (Yan Sanxiao) (Slowly cracking sunflower seeds) "Lord Judge calls the shots." (Leng Qingya) "Done deal! First, let's down a liter of vodka to rinse our mouths, then we'll talk about how to deliver this center-stage ice sculpture right to your doorstep!"