Unmatched Goddess System

The rain had just stopped and the street lights were dim. Wu Ping squatted by the flower bed, the water on his takeout clothes was still dripping, and he could raise fish in his helmet. The braised pork in the plastic lunch box was so cold that the oil condensed into white wax. He poked it with chopsticks, and the piece of fat trembled. I ran 47 orders today and earned 284 yuan. There were eight hundred and thirty-two in total in my pocket. The rent is due in three days, one thousand and two. Huabei owes three thousand and four. There is a crack on the screen of the mobile phone, and from left to right, it just cuts across the WeChat icon, like a scar. The phone rang. Two words popped up on the screen: He Fang. Wu Ping's hand paused. No contact for three days. Last time she said she was working overtime and asked him not to make phone calls. He believed it then. Wu Ping. Um. Separate it. The chopsticks fell to the floor. The plastic one fluttered lightly, but he didn't pick it up. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.