On New Year's Eve, I transformed into the owner of a bankrupt shop, and the system forced me to take over the paper-making shop that was on the verge of bankruptcy.
The proprietress of the shroud shop next door sneered: "The underworld business on this street has long been monopolized by Prince Ma."
I made a paper motorcycle and burned it for the boy who died in a car accident. That night he asked in his dream: "Sister, can you burn another charger? The underworld doesn't offer free shipping."
The next day, there was a long line in front of my store.
The futile ghost held up the "Underworld Bad Review List" and begged: "Boss, please connect to WIFI, I've been stuck on the loading interface for seven years..."
Like, praise, praise, praise