"Come on, tell me about today's competition. Did those people give you any trouble?" Xiaoqiang was particularly curious about how his wife won the championship.
Qian just didn't want this thick-skinned guy to have an easy victory.
"A week ago, we had a heavy rain here."
Upon hearing this, Xiaoqiang racked his brains, wondering if his wife was implying that the competition process was as thrilling as a thunderstorm.
"Heavy rain, and then what?"
"The windows at home got dirty."
The realm of poets is to pause every few words, paired with a deep expression and a slow pace, to emphasize their pretentious charisma.
Yu Minglang turned into small bean eyes for several seconds, then the scholar Lang figured it out.
"You mean—let me go back and clean the windows?"
Qian gestured with a hand showing three fingers, "Bedroom, kitchen, guest room, all need cleaning!"
If you don't clean it well, I won't tell you!
