"At least it's a third prize..." Meng Lang could only console himself.
Seven numbers, fourteen digits, ten thousand yuan; by any measure, his autobiography was close to the old saying 'every character worth its weight in gold.' Even a mosquito's leg is flesh, after all!
As for why the winning lottery numbers were stirred up by this little butterfly...
Forget it, forget it, knowing too much is no good for oneself.
"Ahem! I'll go see if there's anything I can help with."
Meng Lang felt the secondary harm from the joyful atmosphere in the room and decisively found an excuse to escape to the kitchen.
"Hey! You..." Lin Haitang seemed to want to stop him, but Meng Lang had already dived into the kitchen.
In the kitchen, Xiao Yu was wearing a small apron, standing on a stool, making a dish of braised pork. The fragrant aroma of cooked dishes was pervasive, making one's mouth water.
Seeing Meng Lang suddenly enter, Xiao Yu turned her head.
