Others play chicken to keep score, but I play chicken to survive.
When I was six years old, my biological father brought his mistress and illegitimate daughter into the house the day after my mother's funeral. I no longer believed there was love in this world.
When I was in college, I thought I met a second-generation rich man who helped me get better grades. But it turned out that he believed the slander that I was ugly, so he turned around and ran away from my sister who was third on the list.
Hehe, man, it's not as reliable as my 8x scope.
Until that round, I caught a box of baby chicken that had been abandoned by my teammates.
He has a nice voice and very pretty hands, but his mouth is a bit clumsy: "Thank you, thank you. I have memorized a lot of law books, so my reaction is a bit slow."
Later, he said that in order to repay me, he would tell me about the provisions of the Civil Code on joint property between husband and wife.
On the day of my offline intercourse, looking at the ascetic male god from the law department who was even better looking than his hands, I decided to "discuss" with him about my post-marital life.
I thought he was a king, but I didn't expect him to be clingy.
I made him kneel on the keyboard, and he held me on his lap with his backhand, his eyes red: "Honey, I have never seen this case before, you have to tell me about it."
What's even more outrageous is that our two roommates also fell in love while we were working as "light bulbs"!
Just when I thought my life had reached its peak, the rich second generation who thought I was ugly led the whole gang to block the door of our party box...
