"Only women cry, make a scene, and threaten suicide; men don't do that."
Su Qin touched his face: "Get up, eat something."
"Mom, that's a stereotype. People who act up like to cry, make a scene, and threaten suicide, regardless of gender. It's just that I don't act up."
Su Qin pointed to the ashtray full of cigarette butts: "That's it? Isn't that enough?"
After He Yan got up, he drove out and went to the department store. He looked around and wondered what he should give her.
She's so rich now, and the man she's with is rich too, what could she possibly lack?
On the contrary, whatever he gave her seemed like a joke.
Finally, He Yan picked out a very ordinary book in the bookstore and asked He Yu to give it to her.
During this time, Xiaohua was taken to try on wedding dresses, choose a wedding venue, and make wedding invitations.
Zhou Musheng accompanied her throughout, and she seemed very happy and attentive.
But she noticed that Zhou Musheng wasn't happy about it.
She felt she had done her best, and she had obediently cooperated with whatever he wanted to do.
The wedding is approaching, but Xiaohua has no particular emotion; she is neither happy nor unhappy.
It's as if she's just an actress who plays the role of the bride.
He Yu wanted to say a few words of comfort to her, but seeing her in the office looking at the company's financial report while eating melon seeds and drinking tea, she stopped.
Feeling that she didn't need comforting, she handed her the gift He Yan had given her.
Xiaohua opened it and saw that it was a collection of jokes.
Looking at the book cover, Xiaohua couldn't help but spray water far away: "This book has already proven its value. Go back and tell He Yan that I'm very happy."
However, on the wedding day, the groom disappeared, causing an uproar among the guests.
(On a side note, the best way to deal with anything or anyone you dislike is to stay away from it, rather than watching something and feeling disgusted with yourself. Life is already hard enough, why torture yourself? One user provided at least half of the book reviews. Every day, seeing the notifications of a few new paragraphs or reviews gives me the illusion that my lousy book has had some incredible luck again. Of course, this illusion quickly disappears after I read through the comments, haha.)
I never argue back because I dislike internal conflict. At first, I would check what people were saying, and my friend would say, "Are you crazy? Why are you even looking at what people are saying about you?" Later, I stopped checking, so I don't care what they're saying anymore. Today, I casually checked again—familiar IDs, familiar vibes. By the way, factories aren't hiring at the end of the year, so I'll definitely be going to work there after the New Year. For someone like me, an illiterate who didn't even finish elementary school, working in a factory will definitely earn more money than writing books. I lack formal education, but I certainly have a lot of stupidity—definitely the chosen assembly line worker!
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