Zhao Fuguo also attended night school and witnessed the charm of Xie Yun's language. He also often hung out with Yan Dongsheng and Yue Zheng. Recently, he had come into contact with senior cadres from the cadre school. He respected these cultural figures from the bottom of his heart and imitated them unconsciously in their speech and deeds. Now, his level has greatly improved and he can speak eloquently.
Zheng Laoer wanted to cry but had no tears. He was too embarrassed to say that he was beaten, and he didn't want to expose the conflict between his wife and his mother. He was speechless for a moment and didn't know what to say.
After a pause, he said, "We're just having a minor quarrel, how can it be considered a threat to our lives? You're exaggerating."
"A minor fight? So it really happened?"
Zheng Laoer: "..."
You've got the wrong focus.
"It's nothing serious, we were just joking."
"Are you kidding me? You don't have the final say. Your wife has a slap mark on her face. It's swollen and there's a cut. It doesn't look like she's joking. Since you're here, come in and confront her. According to the rules we set before, we'll have a public trial with the whole brigade."
Zheng Laoer: “!!!”
"No, that's not necessary..."
"How can we not use it?"
Zhao Fuguo had someone drag him toward the team headquarters, laughing as he walked, "Speaking of which, your Zheng family is quite powerful. Our team's first public trial with a loudspeaker was about your family, and our second public trial was also about your family. Aren't you proud? Aren't you proud?"
Zheng Laoer: "..."
The militiamen holding Zheng Laoer nearly burst out laughing. No one knew what was going on with their captain's mouth lately; whenever he spoke, it either made people laugh to death or pissed them off, or both.
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