The owner of the little dirt cat blew up his hair and changed his cross talk to "what do you think of her?"? Want to sue my cat for rape? Then you go and Sue. I'll see you in court! "
It was just as the sword was drawing, Jiang Jiusheng's phone rang.
She added, "Hello, Cheng Hui,"
"I'm at the pet store."
"Well, it's a bit noisy here."
The two girls who had been arguing with each other were quiet, and looked at Jiang Jiusheng with astonishment.
"Yuan Jiusheng!"
Jiang Jiusheng looks up.
"You," the girl with the fold eared cat hesitated for a moment, in a hurry, but pressed her voice hard. "Do you recognize me?"
Jiang Jiusheng nodded.
The girl's face, which was not very good-looking, was blue and purple again: "don't talk in front of Cheng Hui."
With that, she hugged her jacketed cat and left the pet shop in embarrassment.
Oh, it turns out that Miss Qin Ba knows that Cheng Hui doesn't like shrewd and unruly women.
Jiang Jiusheng and Qin Xiaoxiao have not seen each other, but Qin Xiaoxiao has appeared on the screen even though he is no longer red. Jiang Jiusheng knows her highly recognizable face. Besides, this Miss Qin and Cheng have had gossip news twice.
Jiang Jiusheng bowed his head and continued to talk on the phone: "I won't forget it."
The next month after her concert is Ms. Jiang's birthday. Cheng will specially call to ask if she wants to go home.
"Well, book the tickets for me."
That's the meeting.
Jiang Jiusheng looked out of the window and walked away: "brother, how does Qin Xiaoxiao know we are brothers and sisters?"
There was a few seconds in the phone.
Cheng Hui said, "all the people of the Qin family like to come to Yin." After a pause, he was very serious. "If you meet me, avoid it."
The young masters and young ladies of the Qin family are not familiar with each other. However, Cheng Hui really doesn't like the Qin family.
Jiang Jiusheng answered with a smile, hung up the phone, and just turned around, the little girl with the head of the meatball pulled the local cat and came over.
"Lord Sheng."
Jiang Jiusheng was stunned.
With tears in her eyes, the little girl asked eagerly, "can I touch your hand?"
Jiang Bomei: "Wang!"
The little girl immediately changed her voice: "if you can't, you can touch your dog."
"Wang!"
Jiang said she was disgusted.
Jiang Jiusheng couldn't help laughing and asked her, "are you my fan?"
"I am your brain powder!" The voice was loud and powerful, which made the little dirt cat in her hand tremble.
What an interesting girl.
Jiang Jiusheng smiled and held out his hand: "hello."
"Husband," he blurted out
“……”
Oh, my nature is exposed by accident! The little girl scratched her head sheepishly and tried to look calm and less anxious: "Mr. Sheng, can you sign for me?"
"Yes." Jiang Jiusheng asked, "where is the signature?"
The other party quickly took out a watercolor pen from his backpack and pulled open the cowboy jacket: "on the heart of the autograph."
On the pure white T-shirt, Jiang Jiusheng signed her name in black block letters.
"Mr. Sheng,"
JIANG Jiusheng looks at the girl.
She seemed to be hesitant, and her eyebrows were pulled into several folds. She asked tentatively, "do you remember talking about calligraphy under the Sanjiu bridge?"
Jiang Jiusheng was slightly shocked.
It was four years ago, when Jiang Jiusheng was not an artist.
The summer in Jiangbei is very hot. There are many peddlers selling ice water coming down from the Sanjiu bridge. Only one girl in ragged clothes holds a piece of cardboard with five irregular characters written on it: selling labor to bury mother.
The girl looks like an underage, not short, very thin, tanned, sweating and holding up her sign, sitting under the arch of the bridge, with her back straight and upright, passers-by will specially look at her for a few more eyes, or ridicule, or despise, she has been sitting upright from the beginning to the end, but no one stops, probably thinking that she is a liar, Or, beggars.
Jiang Jiusheng took out two hundred pieces from his wallet and put them on the ground, smashing them with stones.
The girl said, "I'm not begging."
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