Ten minutes passed quickly, but the guy called Qinglian Jushi still hadn't replied.
In fact, at this time, Xu Lu was playing a 'guess the gender' game with netizens.
But Zhou Wenhao ignored this, and he gradually became impatient.
I am the president of the Modern Poetry Association. If the other party wants to make a name for themselves in the modern poetry circle, how dare they treat me so disrespectfully?
In particular, this hermit Qinglian stole 300,000 yuan of his prize money.
Taking all these factors into account, Zhou Wenhao started swearing and cursing.
If he weren't thinking of winning over this "Qinglian Hermit" to strike at his "lifelong enemy," he certainly wouldn't be so "respectful and courteous" right now.
After waiting a while, Zhou Wenhao finally saw a small red dot appear in his private message.
He eagerly clicked on it and saw Qinglian Jushi's reply:
"Hello!"
Hello?
Your reply was just two words?
I already said that I am the president of the Modern Poetry Association, didn't this guy called Qinglian Jushi see that clearly?
Zhou Wenhao felt a tightness in his chest.
In the entire modern poetry circle, who doesn't show him utmost respect upon first meeting him?
Even famous poets had to give him some respect when they met him.
Yet now, a newcomer who has just emerged is so indifferent to the goodwill that I have taken the initiative to extend.
The discrepancy was something that President Zhou found hard to accept.
"If this person weren't still somewhat useful to me, I... never mind, I'll just have to bear with it a little longer!"
Suppressing his anger, Zhou Wenhao sent another private message.
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