She thought for a moment and then spoke up, "Mr. Lu, I've received what you requested."

As she spoke, she took out her phone, carefully protecting the screen to prevent it from being noticed by sharp-eyed people, and handed it to Lu Zheng.

Who would carry 20 million in cash? Mr. Zhang's belongings were far less than 20 million. While pondering this, the reporters had already taken a screenshot of Mr. Zhang's hand pulling at Songti's clothes and posted it online.

"Breaking News! Internationally Renowned Tycoon Meets with Ladyboy!"

In less than half a minute, the number of views exceeded 10,000.

Mr. Zhang could only bring out the only valuable thing he had on him—the painting he brought to the auction. This painting was worth at least 30 million. But now it wasn't a matter of how much money he was worried about. The problem was that if people guessed that the photo belonged to him, he would lose thousands of times 30 million!

After successfully handing over the painting, Qiao Zhen took a photo and hurriedly returned to the banquet hall.

However, Lu Zheng seemed completely indifferent to this crucial painting at this moment.

What's the mentality of a scoundrel?

Qiao Zhen didn't understand, nor did she want to understand. Anyway, the mission was completed, and the debt of gratitude far exceeding its original value had been repaid. She could leave the stage.

"The painting is in your car, I've already helped enough," she said. As for how to clear his name and retrieve it later, Lu Zheng surely had plenty of ways to do that, it wasn't her concern. "I'll be going now."

The man, who had been motionless like an ice sculpture for a long time, suddenly made a move and pressed down on Qiao Zhen's shoulder.

The burning heat of her palms rendered her immobile, and she asked impatiently, "What else do you want?"

The hushed voice had no intimidating force whatsoever; it sounded more like a helpless, furious little white rabbit.

Lu Zheng smiled lightly and turned to look at him, "You're far too self-important."