"No way? How can it be this much? Did I calculate wrong?"
Zhang Hao knitted his brows tightly and scratched his head.
Picking up the calculator, he added the numbers again.
"Ninety-six thousand one, plus forty-six thousand five, plus…"
There was a snap.
"Damn! It's still one hundred and fifty thousand!"
Zhang Hao put down the calculator and looked up.
A group of people were staring at him, dumbfounded.
"Son, calculate it again, it was just over one hundred thousand yesterday. How could it suddenly increase by so much today!"
Zhang Hao's mother, Sun Meiyu, commanded with a serious expression.
"Ah, why bother recalculating? There were more people staying up all night eating skewers, drinking, and watching the game!"
Zhang Hao's father, Zhang Yong, exhausted as he was, snatched away the calculator and clamored:
"Hurry up and go back to sleep, I'm nearly worn to a frazzle."
At this moment, Liao Lan suddenly asked:
