"Smelling good means nothing! We want a refund! He's just a slacking bastard!"
"You have to give us a refund! Damn it, I bet a hundred thousand on him!"
"Refund! Refund! Refund!"
The gamblers, red in the face, started shouting up a storm.
"Just a friendly reminder to our audience," the hostess said with a wide smile, "once a betting slip is sold, it cannot be returned or exchanged."
Just then, a tall figure in a demon-faced leather jacket and a hat approached the gamblers. "You all bet on Zhou Chen?"
"Obviously!"
"I'll buy back your betting slips. Ten percent of their value." Li Xiye held up a single index finger.
"Ten percent? Why don't you just fucking rob us instead?"
"You don't have to sell, you know. Sell, and you'll at least recoup some of your losses. Don't sell, and you'll go bankrupt and take a nice long leap off a tall building," Li Xiye said, her voice dripping with schadenfreude.
