Zhuo Qiang sat up, adjusted his breathing, and vomited a few times to regain some strength: "Thank you! Cough cough cough."
Mu Zishan extended her hand to him: "Okay, let's go!" She didn't think they could get a taxi easily.
Zhuo Qiang buttoned up his shirt, dropped his tie on the ground, took off his shoes, and followed her with his coat in hand.
She wasn't one to enjoy other people's gossip, but she had to ask, "Who is that woman?"
"A rich second generation," he said angrily, "fuck her. I told her marriage was impossible. Who knew she would have such a bad temper?"
She didn't want to know about his affair, she just wanted her car back: "She drove away with my phone in it."
"I'll find a way to get it back for you."
"That's good." Suddenly she stopped and saw the phone crushed on the road. "Fuck it!"
Zhuo Qiang and Mu Zishan exchanged a glance. She had actually learned from him how to use the profound and extensive Chinese characters. They both smiled. No matter how Mu Zishan gestured, the trucks on the road sped past them, and no one pitied the two people who had fallen into the water.
They found a small roadside store and borrowed someone's phone to call Lu Yang. The two of them sat in the doorway, fortunately, the sun took pity on them, providing warmth. Zhuo Qiang took off his shirt and pants, wrung them out, and hung them on a nearby tree branch. He turned and saw Mu Zishan throwing her underwear to the ground. He stared at her back for a moment, then was frightened back by her disgusted look.
By the time Lu Yang found them, it was already noon.
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