He opened the door, and his initially smiling face instantly fell when he saw the little kids inside.
"Go on, this is not a place to play," he opened the door, letting the two kids out, wondering whose prank it was to leave two kids here.
Qin Xiangyang turned around. Although his face still looked childish, children from poor families mature early; he already had a somewhat composed demeanor.
"Uncle, we want to contract the food market."
"You want to contract the food market?"
The deputy director felt a vein throbbing on his forehead.
The thought of two little kids wanting to contract the food market was the biggest joke he'd heard that day.
"Yes, we want to contract the food market," Qin Xiangyang placed a bag on the table, "Uncle, this is five thousand yuan. If we can talk, the five thousand yuan is yours."
