"Menglong, how was your October 1 holiday?" The next morning, bright and early, Zhang Menglong received a call from his senior, Zhu Mengchao.
"Not bad, and you, senior?"
"Us miserable PhD students, of course, were just shaking those bottles and jars in the lab," Zhu Mengchao said helplessly. "I don't know what got into my head, finishing grad school and then enrolling in a PhD program. My hair is thinning by the day, yet my pockets have never bulged."
"Don't you get a decent monthly subsidy?" Zhang Menglong asked curiously.
"Subsidy? Forget about it! The university's three-thousand subsidy is barely enough to live on, a casual purchase by the girlfriend and it's all gone. This year, Teacher Han's research funding is too tight; our labor fee has already been cut from four thousand a month to eight hundred. More tears than words!"
