He closed the door and casually threw the oranges into the trash can, not daring to eat anything Wang Song had given him.
My wife wasn't home, but there was a note on the coffee table that read: "Honey, I'm going to the provincial art association to apply for membership."
Just then, the phone rang.
Wang Peng answered the phone, "Hello, this is Wang Peng."
"Your wife was just bragging to me that she won the national championship. That's amazing," Li Mengjiao's voice came through the phone.
Wang Peng had a headache. Good heavens, his wife had actually called England.
He smiled and said, "When are you coming back to China? I miss my daughter, and I miss you too."
After a moment, Li Mengjiao chuckled, "You do have a conscience. For your daughter's sake, I forgive Li Mingzhu."
Wang Peng hurriedly explained, "She just wanted to share her joy of winning the championship with you, not to show off. You don't understand art, so what's there to show off?"
"Hmph," Li Mengjiao said, "If you mention her again, I'll really get angry."
“Okay, let’s not talk about her,” Wang Peng said. “Is your daughter here? I want to talk to her.”
Li Mengjiao said, "She just fell asleep, should I wake her up?"
"Stop fooling around." Wang Peng thought of Wang Song's oranges. "Wang Song wants to mend things with me. Should we give him a chance?"
“He’s dreaming,” Li Mengjiao said. “He was the one who wanted to break up in the first place, so it’s over now. It’s too late to regret it.”
"Um... I'll sing you a song," Wang Peng sang, "You were the one who wanted to break up, so you broke up with me, but now you want to use true love to coax me back..."
The bedroom door suddenly opened, and my wife came home.
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