He immediately came up in a familiar way, looking down at Yuran from a superior angle as she sat on the outer side. She was naturally eye-catching, and the man who approached had a flicker in his eye.
His voice lowered, a hint of frivolity in his tone, "Is this young lady a new addition? Why not consider our team? It’s more promising than Team 13."
Such blatant poaching—if Fatty could tolerate it, he wouldn’t be the head of Team 13.
"Zhou Cheng, don’t go too far." Fatty’s face turned cold, his tone unfriendly.
Zhou Cheng didn’t care in the slightest about Fatty’s expression, continuing to tempt Yuran, "In terms of development prospects and team cohesion, we’re far stronger than Team 13. Miss, won’t you think it over?"
"You know very well what you’re after. Why pretend to be so high and mighty?" Fatty scoffed coldly. It had to be said, as a post-producer, Zhou Cheng had a face to rival celebrities.
With that face, his reputation spread far and wide. Who in the circle didn’t know? If there was anyone he could sleep with, who hadn’t he slept with?
How could Yuran not be on his radar?
The nerves of everyone on Team 13 were on edge, and Fatty was somewhat worried about Yuran. After all, in his eyes, Yuran was just a young girl. Facing a handsome man’s advances, she might not be all that guarded.
Zhou Cheng clasped his hands together, his expression mocking. Glancing over at his colleagues, he burst into laughter, "Listen to this, Team 13! What do they even mean by that!"
Someone immediately echoed him, "Cheng Bro, whatever they mean, they’re just jealous, that’s for sure."
"Right, Cheng Bro, can Team 13 even compare to us?"
The people from Teams 3 and 9, with one comment after another, were humiliating Team 13. Yuran’s eyebrows furrowed tightly, and suddenly she lifted her head to look at Zhou Cheng, "Excuse me, who are you?"
Yuran’s voice was clear, with a unique tone that inexplicably drew attention. All eyes turned to her, almost causing the people from Team 13 to burst out laughing.
He had just introduced himself, and yet...
Zhou Cheng narrowed his eyes, looking down at Yuran, "Miss, your words displease me."
Yuran mocked with a laugh, "First, I’m not familiar with you, so whether you’re pleased or not is none of my business; second, you came uninvited, with no manners whatsoever; lastly, please take your people, turn around, and get lost."
"You woman..." A man from behind Zhou Cheng rushed forward, pointing at Yuran’s nose ready to curse at her, but was stopped by Zhou Cheng. Zhou Cheng’s face was grim, twisted with anger.
"Quick-witted and sharp-tongued, aren’t you? Are you the one who’s been making Team 13 overtime lately? That M.YU wild card?"
"Wild card?" The fattie and the creatives of Team 13 savored those words, a bit of laughter and disbelief on their faces.
Yuran glanced at him sideways, didn’t reply, but asked, "Is there anything else? Standing here, it’s quite easy to affect the appetite."
Yuran poked at the ham in her bowl, as if thinking of something, and slowly said, "How about this? Let’s make a bet. Just running our mouths off has no meaning. If we lose..."
As she spoke, Yuran became somewhat troubled. Although she had developed a good relationship with Team 13’s creative team recently, she wasn’t close enough to make decisions for them.
Making a hasty bet might not be a good idea.
Zhou Cheng’s eyes narrowed with interest, "Go on!"