Waiting for the seemingly ordinary youth to run up to them, the two men exchanged glances. A thin, white-faced man who seemed to be in his mid-twenties, greeted him, "Excuse me, young man, can you understand what we're saying?"
"Clatter"—Zhang Xiaohua, full of hope, almost tripped and fell to the ground. What kind of question is this? How could I not understand your language?
But when Zhang Xiaohua started to speak, he realized the man's meaning, "I… I… I do…"
Zhang Xiaohua's speech turned out to be a little rusty. After all, having spent over four years on this deserted island without anyone around, it was impossible for him to maintain fluent language skills. Even though he read from jade slips and muttered to himself, it was just mumbling; when did he ever loudly communicate with others?
