Ye Fengsheng bent down, looked at him, and said, "Is there a lot?"
"Not much, not much!"
The storm suddenly burst into tears, and the man shook his head and said, "Not much!"
"Then are you just waiting?" Fengsheng looked at him. Waiting to die?"
"But I can't afford four million!"
It's hard to imagine a middle-aged man with a red face and cold sweat now looking like a kindergarten child, causing such a loss that the teacher would punish him, wanting to cry but unable to.
Ye Fengshen watched him and said, "Three thousand a day for six months, why couldn't you get four million?"
Today.
A sentence was stuck in his throat, and it pierced through middle-aged men who didn't know the storm, almost suffocating.
I'm not the one who took the money! A group of brothers supporting me, a car repair, wages, daily expenses, isn't that money? Isn't it?
Isn't that money?
