Who the hell is talking about me?
Qin Guanghui skilfully read the computer's configuration table, then said with burning eyes, "This should be a relatively high-configuration computer on the market now."
Judging from Qin Guanghui's tone, this is not even the highest configuration computer.
“Is there a better computer out there?”
"This is good enough, but there are better ones, like the IBM PCAT Enhanced Microcomputer, which is even better than this and costs over 40,000 yuan."
"Wait a minute!"
Wan Feng immediately picked up the phone in the office and dialed a number.
About a minute later, the call was connected.
"Please find Zhang Shiqian for me." From the voice, it was clear that it was not Zhang Shiqian who answered the phone.
A male voice muttered from the other end.
"Speak Mandarin. I don't understand bird language."
The person on the phone was furious, yelling in broken Mandarin: "Who are you? If you have to fart, fart!"
"Didn't I tell you to find Zhang Shiqian?"
"He's not home!"
"I don't care where he is. I'll call him in ten minutes. If he doesn't show up, tell him he doesn't need to come to the Northeast after the New Year."
After saying that, Wan Feng hung up the phone.
Who is this person from Zhang Shiqian's family? How dare he let him fart!
The last time the river was closed, Zhang Shiqian went home and spent more than 10,000 yuan to install a home phone. Wan Feng only remembered it when he came back from Xu Bin's house the night before yesterday, and he finally found the phone number in the small notebook.
I never thought that the first time I called that old thief, my words would be linked to farts. This is unbearable!
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