Suizi and her husband were busy retaliating when Wang Cuihua also started to rack her brains, thinking divergently.
She went to the neighbor's house and borrowed a small cymbal.
Don't be fooled by its palm size; as a folk percussion instrument, it makes quite the uproar, with a sound that is both piercing and harsh.
Wang Cuihua rushed over, excitedly beating her son to the punch and answering the phone first.
"Hello?"
"Chen Hansui, I was with your man again today. He wore a white shirt and took it off to reveal a really toned waist. Have you ever touched his abs?"
"..."
The woman on the line couldn't hear Wang Cuihua speaking and repeated herself in confusion twice.
"Hehe...." Wang Cuihua took the small cymbal from her husband's hand, laughing out loud with glee.
"What are you laughing at?"
"You're in for some bad luck." Wang Cuihua said in a tiny voice, making the woman on the other end lean her ear unconsciously closer to the receiver to hear more clearly.
