"Yan Hua, why don't we make a bet?" Zeng Qian, who was immersed in "Youth Digest", suddenly raised her head and said.
"What kind of bet is this?" Yan Hua asked directly without raising his head as he read a copy of "Yilin" at hand seriously.
Zeng Qian felt a little resentful, "Oh, don't look at it. Let's discuss something serious."
"Then don't look at it." Yan Hua quickly raised his head, took the little red book from his deskmate's hand, and threw it into his drawer. "What's going on?"
"We can't continue to be so decadent. We must find something to do."
Seeing the determination on his deskmate's face, Yan Hua was a little surprised. He stretched out his hand and put it on her forehead to check the temperature. He muttered to himself, "I don't have a fever..."
Zeng Qian slapped her hand off her forehead with great dissatisfaction, and in a blink of an eye, another light emitted from her eyes.
"Let's make a bet!"