Chapter 89 I Can't Write Two Nings in One stroke

She turned her head reflexively, and saw Yun Yi calmly removed the joints from the strong man's arms, jumped off the wall gracefully and calmly, and bowed his hands to them politely.

"The gate of the courtyard was blocked, and I had to jump over the wall as an expediency. I hope everyone will forgive me."

This is the first time for Xiaoxiao to see the legendary lightness kungfu, and she hasn't come to her senses for a while, she just thinks that the neighbor's little boy is really suitable for flying around like this, he looks like a little fairy boy.

Rong Yan Chaoyun and the others made a gesture, and the latter understood, kicked the strong men blocking the gate of the courtyard over and opened the door.

He looked at the smashed sauce jar, and thought that if he was one step late, the wooden stick might hit Ning Xiaoxiao's body, and his anger surged up, and the strong man who couldn't move his arms had already been kicked to the ground by Yun Yi , Rong Yan stepped on his fingers as if he couldn't see it, and he didn't see how hard he was, but he saw that the tall and strong man had a painful expression on his face, as if he was about to yell in the next moment.

Rong Yan frowned impatiently, raised his toes and lifted his chin. The pain worsened, and he passed out as soon as he rolled his eyes.

Then he walked up to Xiaoxiao and asked, "Are you all right?"

Xiaoxiao shook her head, still immersed in admiration for the martial arts, she couldn't take her eyes away from Rong Yan for a while, but she didn't know that the heartbeat in front of her was accelerating, and she didn't know whether she was scared or watched.

Looking at each other, Rong Yan took the lead to look away. Unexpectedly, this action happened to make the tip of her red ear fall into Xiaoxiao's eyes. She blinked and took a step closer to him, wanting to take a closer look. Gogou's face became hot, and he turned his head and glared at the rest of the troublemakers.

Yun Yi and the others were the personal guards who had been with the master for many years. Seeing him raise his eyes, he understood what the master meant, so they clenched their fists and planned to teach these bastard grandsons who dared to come to Ning's house to make trouble.

Xiaoxiao tugged Rong Yan's sleeve in a hurry, and whispered to him: "Let's see what they want to do first."

Rong Yan turned his head strangely, was it an illusion, why did he feel that Ning Xiaoxiao's tone was looking forward to it?
Interrupting Yun Yi and the others with a wave of his hand, Rong Yan and the others folded their arms and looked coldly at the stranger in the yard.

Seeing the young man's gaze turned to him, Wang Biao, who was surprised that these people were not easy to mess with, quickly showed the contract signed by Ning Fengcai to everyone in the big room.

"Hey, hey, a gentleman uses his mouth but not his hands. It was your second uncle's bamboo shoots that ruined the reputation of my restaurant, so I followed him to get the recipe for sour bamboo shoots!"

Ning Dalang glanced at the ten lines and quickly read it, with a puzzled expression on his face: "This is the contract signed by my second uncle and you, why did you come to us?"

Wang Biao gave Uncle Ning a threatening look: "According to what you mean, Ning Fengcai's sour bamboo shoots are not from the same family as you?"

He took a stick and tapped it meaningfully: "That's not what you said when you sold the bamboo shoots to us."

Second Uncle Ning was trembling and speechless, but Xiaoxiao became interested: "Oh? Then what did he say?"

Wang Biao glanced at Second Uncle Ning who didn't dare to look up: "He said that the bamboo shoots in his house are just like yours, and the bamboo shoots he brought for my shopkeeper to try tasted the same as Wuxiangju."

Wang Biao looked at Rong Yan and his party who were not to be trifled with, and made a very reasonable look: "The most important thing in running a restaurant is reputation. Since our family has already let the word out that there is a dish of sour bamboo shoots, naturally we can't I slapped myself and swallowed the words back, but we can’t believe your second uncle’s craftsmanship. Of course, he will not accept the bamboo shoots he made in the future. Losing money or handing over the recipe for sour bamboo shoots is a good way to deal with it. Is it reasonable?"

Uncle Ning was half pleading and half yin and yang, and said: "Brother, I can't write two characters of Ning in one stroke. We are blood relatives anyway, and we can't be worse than a prescription. Just hand over the things."

(End of this chapter)

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