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Early on Christmas morning, my fiancée Xi Meng was hanging on me in a group of girlfriends, scolding me in a horrible way. "Jimei people are avoiding lightning. Now this man doesn't even order a Christmas dinner, but wants to take me to a home-cooked meal? Doesn't this kind of man keep it for the New Year?" Her best friends were mad at her, saying that a poor guy like me was not worthy of her petty bourgeoisie. Some even suggested that she break up with me immediately to teach me a lesson. Xi Meng listened to the slander and blocked my contact information directly, swearing that I would not look back until I booked a five-star hotel. What she didn't know was that I didn't book a restaurant because I paid full price for a Porsche Cayenne that she dreamed of, and it was parked downstairs. There was a car purchase contract and flowers on the passenger side, ready to give her a surprise. Seeing her words on the phone, "Get out of here if you don't want to book a restaurant," I tore the car purchase contract into pieces. Do you want to eat western food? Okay, I backed out of the car and went to KFC to order her a family bucket. Don't be the rich man of this wealthy family. Go eat your fast food!