Bian Yue coughed sincerely, "Do you think there's a possibility that I can't afford to sign him?"
"Why wouldn't you be able to afford signing?" Wen Jiao asked, baffled, taking it for granted, "That face doesn't look like it's worth much money!"
"Who are you calling worthless, big sister!" Shen Zhaoli just felt the woman before him was a visionless madwoman, grinding his teeth and saying, "Open your dog eyes and take a good look! My face is worth a fortune! A top-tier destiny!"
Just as Wen Jiao was about to retort, Bian Yue carefully chose her words and quickly spoke up, "Wen Jiao, don't argue with him, he's not a signed artist. He is an adopted son of the Shen Family."
"The adopted son of the Shen Family? The Shen Family... wait..." Wen Jiao's anger receded as she stared wide-eyed at Shen Zhaoli, "He is... the Shen Family's..."
Shen Zhaoli sneered, raising an eyebrow, clearly implying: You've kicked on iron now.
