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The blazing sun hung high in the sky as Zhao Huilong squatted on the ground, taking drag after drag of a cigarette.
He felt particularly irritable at that moment, and just thinking about the punch Wei Dazhuang had thrown at him in front of everyone made him want to curse.
In fact, he had experienced similar things in the past, so it was nothing new.
Normally, he should have been used to this "bottom-feeder" role, but the past few days of "strutting around" had subconsciously made him forget his original role.
It was probably what people called "a small person getting ahead." After tasting the feeling of "being above others," Zhao Huilong naively believed he had become the "elite" he had fantasized about countless times.
