The cell phone on the table was vibrating like a Parkinson's patient. It was particularly jarring in this office, which was only ten square meters and the air was filled with the smell of musty and cheap instant noodle seasoning packets.
Ling Buyi lowered his legs that were hanging on the armrests of the broken leather chair, stretched out, and his joints made a series of heart-wrenching "clicking" sounds. He glanced at the caller ID, an unfamiliar encrypted number.
"Ling Buyi Wanshiwu doesn't check mistresses or find pets. He only accepts... Jobs that can make me a fortune. Please tell me." He lazily picked up the phone, with a hint of hoarseness in his voice.
This "House of Everything" sounds like a name that came out of a comic book. In his hands, there is only "everything" and no "money". The rent was already in arrears for two months, and there was no money coming in. He really had to go to the underpass to tell fortunes with his broken laptop.
There was silence on the other end of the phone for three seconds, and then a male voice sounded so calm that it was almost cold. His words were clear and clear, and there was no emotion at all: "Mr. Ling, I represent my employer, the Su Group."
