"Wait a minute!" The old man stepped in front of Zhao Jun and raised his left hand.
Of course, he wasn't about to hit him.
The old man's palm faced Zhao Jun. He had curled his index, middle, and ring fingers, leaving only his thumb and pinky extended.
He was making the sign for the number six.
The old man looked at Zhao Jun with a serious expression and said, "Young man, this is the most I can give you!"
Zhao Jun glanced at the hand sign, taken aback. He asked in surprise, "Six thousand?"
The old man froze, then shook his head violently. He raised his hand signal a little higher and said, "It's two thousand six hundred!"
"Ah!" Zhao Jun grunted, nodded, and shifted to the right, walking around the old man to leave.
The old man quickly turned to follow him. Seeing Zhao Jun already at the door, he hurriedly grabbed him and asked, "That number's no good either?"
