Aunt was flabbergasted. "People are barely getting enough to eat now, so when exactly are we supposed to wait? Who would want to buy your feed for Domestic Poultry?"
The hardest days of the apocalypse had just begun, and the situation was akin to the proverbial slow-boiling frog; there would always need to be something stimulating to shake things up. Jing Shu shook her head. "You'll wait for my notification."
Uncle, who was nearby, grabbed the phone. "Jing Shu, you sell whenever you say you'll sell. Don't mind your Aunt; she doesn't understand. That's it, goodbye."
Having said that, he hung up the phone in a hurry. Jing Shu shrugged her shoulders. She had changed quite a lot in this life—how could Uncle have been so decisive in his previous life? Now that he had some confidence, things were indeed different.
