"Spiritual damage compensation?" the director blinked in surprise.
"What, you don't want it?"
The director snorted derisively, eyeing Jiang Xiao with the same look one might give a country bumpkin.
Tsk, his whole outfit probably isn't even worth three hundred bucks, and yet he's putting on airs like some rich young master.
I'm just saying it.
What kind of rich person would stay at this Niu Wuliang Small Hospital on the outskirts?
"How much money could you possibly have, kid?"
"Everyone else gets five thousand, ten thousand... Look at you..." Jiang Xiao himself didn't even know how much would be appropriate to give, since he had never had such an experience.
"Ten thousand?"
Niu Wuliang's face darkened.
"What do you mean 'everyone else gets five thousand, ten thousand'? Have you ever seen anyone who only had to pay ten thousand after someone died? Let me tell you, this isn't about the money at all!"
