The gas tank couldn't be lit for a long time.
Yan Xianjue saw him standing there awkwardly and at a loss.
I opened the car door and walked over to him.
After just a few casual fiddles, it was successfully ignited.
"Tsk, you'll have to clean the ignition needle later."
"Oh...oh oh..." said the stall owner hesitantly.
After a long while, he added, "Thank you."
Yan Xianjue took the tissue he handed over and wiped his fingers casually.
Then he leaned lazily against the car, waiting for the stall owner to cut the starch sausage with unskilled movements.
"Does your stall make money?"
*
The stall owner obviously didn't expect a customer in a luxury car.
Not only could she help him fix the gas tank, but she also started with such down-to-earth topics.
He shook his head honestly.
"I think so too." Yan Xianjue said bluntly.
The stall owner lowered his head even lower.
"Your hands shouldn't be frying sausages here. You should be fiddling with the camera."
The stall owner almost slashed with the knife in his hand.
But the intestines that were cut with great difficulty still rolled to the ground.
He pretended to be calm and said sorry.
Then he picked up another one and cut the starch sausage more attentively than before.
It was as if what he was holding was not a starch sausage worth a few cents, but a statue displayed in a museum.
Yan Xianjue's resistance and negative attitude towards him were not surprising.
This was something that was expected before he came.
He directly pointed out the other person's name: "I know you, Yao Weiwan."
This is a somewhat feminine name.
But it surprisingly suits him.
"Your work was stolen by your most trusted mentor."
"His son used your work to become famous, and even banned you from the industry."
Bang.
The knife in Yao Weiwan's hand fell completely.
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