"Cough, cough, cough!"
A violent cough suddenly echoed in the luxurious suite.
Shao Zifeng, shirtless and holding a glass of water, almost choked: "What do you mean wherever I go gets blown up, I'm the victim here."
"Hey, no use shouting at me, I'm already scared of you," Cang Haiyuan's voice was filled with schadenfreude: "Since you're fine, I'll hang up first, you're gonna be busy enough soon."
"Scram, scram, scram."
After hanging up the phone, Shao Zifeng went to pour himself another glass of water.
Ever since the phone had restarted, it hadn't stopped ringing—Qiqi, Chen Zhenglong, and Li Yiming had taken turns bombarding him until his voice was almost hoarse.
After gulping down the water in his glass, Shao Zifeng was just about to rest when the phone rang again.
"Zifeng, are you alright?" Chen Yixin's tone carried a bit of reprimand: "I told you to come back to the capital with me, but you wouldn't listen. Look at you now, never giving me peace of mind."
