Vivian turned off her phone. She didn't want to be harassed by the man who hurt her so much. There were tears in her eyes and some soft-hearted emotions. She raised her glass and said to Randy: "Cheers, Randy, all men are bad!"
Randy also smiled and said: "Cheers, men are really bad."
Ye Lengsong, a man who was not a good man not far away, was watching the opening ceremony of the World Cup with relish. One by one, the stars who had grown old in those days and were rarely seen in the future entered the stadium with the national team. They are in their prime, and their faces are full of youth and hormones.
France's iron-headed Zidane, Henry, Barthes; Italy's zebra princes Piero, Inzaghi, Totti, Maldini; England's handsome men Beckham, Heskey, Owen, Campbell; Germany's Bierhoff, Sauer, Deisler, Kahn; Spain's Raul, Enrique, Hierro; Portugal's Couto, Gomez; Sweden's Ljungberg; Croatia's Suker; Argentina's Crespo, Ortega, Veron, Simeone; Brazil's fat Ronaldo, Rivaldo, Roberto Carlos, Cafu...
"Fuck France! None of them are good!"
When he saw the French team enter the field, he still cursed. Although Ye Lengsong had bet all the money on France to lose, he still remembered his regret that France lost the first game when he watched it that year.
At that time, he only thought that the French team had not entered the state in the first game. There was no strong team in Group A except Uruguay. Even if they lost to Senegal, they would not have a problem in the group. However...
"You are still too young." Ye Lengsong muttered to himself for some reason.
He changed his posture, leaned comfortably against the back of the chair, lit a Zhonghua cigarette that he had bought in Hong Kong with great effort, and put the cigarette on the table. He also put the ZIPPO lighter that he bought with the cigarette in the cigarette box.
He picked up a small 300ml bottle of beer but did not pour it into the cup. He blew into the bottle twice and continued to watch TV.
If you want to say whether Ye Leng was nervous or not, he was indeed a little nervous. This was the first time in his life that he had gambled. Neither his previous life nor Ye Lengsong in the future had ever gambled before.
In his previous life, he had no money and no ability. Although Ye Lengsong's family later life had a certain influence in Beijing and could speak even in the upper class, his grandfather was an upright and old-fashioned soldier, and so was his father. Although some of his uncles were doing business and doing quite well, he was the only male of the third generation in the family. He was very strict with them since he was a child and didn't have much pocket money. When he was studying at the Beijing Film Academy, it was seen that his monthly living expenses were only slightly more than those of ordinary families, and he couldn't even afford to buy a good guitar.
Although he had confirmed that his winning rate was above 99.9%, he still knew about the "Mandela Effect," poor memory, time tampering, and space distortion.
He didn't believe it before but just thought that the so-called "Mandela Effect" was the result of everyone's disordered memory and misunderstanding.
But even things like time travel and systems appeared on him, so what else was impossible?
"Handsome boy, how much for one night?" A woman dressed fashionably and with a good appearance sat opposite his small table for two people, holding a wine glass and talking to him in a drunken state.
Ye Lengsong, whose thoughts were drifting further and further away, was interrupted by the woman's words. The woman spoke Cantonese. The bar was noisy, so Ye Lengsong didn't hear it clearly. He looked at the woman carefully and was a little unsure.
"Did you meet a lady? The quality of the ladies in Hong Kong is good. With such conditions, one night will cost at least two or three thousand."
Ye Lengsong was not sure about the other party's identity, and he didn't hear what the other party said clearly, but coming up alone to chat up, it was either a one-night stand or a nightingale.
To be honest, Ye Lengsong was really moved. Although he didn't lack women, in this unfamiliar environment, coupled with his own nervous atmosphere, the lady in front of him was also top-notch, and it was a good idea to vent.
...
The time was ten minutes ago.
Randy was a little drunk, hugged Vivian, and said, "The men can find women; why can't we women find men, right?"
Vivian was also a little drunk. Holding her chin with one hand, she hazily agreed, "Yes, that's it."
"Don't worry; my sister will definitely help you find a stylish man who will do whatever you ask him to do. My sister also wants to try the feeling of throwing money at people."
"Yes, throw money to kill him, a philandering man."
"Hey, what do you think of that one?" Randy was drunk and pointed at a small table for two in front of the TV. There was a man sitting alone at the table.
Although you can't see the front, you can tell from the back that he should be a very good man, dressed differently from the men and women in the bar.
White shirt, dark trousers, straight back, tall, a little burly and strong, but different from the muscular men who exercise in the gym all year round.
On his left hand was a box of red cigarettes with a delicate lighter on top. He casually held a beer, occasionally looking up at the TV screen and taking a sip from the bottle.
"Yeah, he's very handsome." Vivian had high standards. Although she couldn't see his face, she had to admit that he was indeed a very handsome man from behind.
And Vivian felt that he was very handsome, without any more meaning, and had no intention of chatting. She just echoed the man's words from the perspective of appreciating him.
"I tell you, this is a standard male public relations." Randy smiled mysteriously at Vivian.
"Male public relations?" Vivian was a little drunk, and her brain was half a beat slower to react. She didn't understand what Randy meant.
"It's just a duck, I don't understand this." Randy pretended to be very knowledgeable.
"Male prostitute?" Vivian asked doubtfully, and her voice was three times louder. Fortunately, it was very noisy here, and no one around could hear it.
"Keep your voice down; how can you call it like that."
Randy was just pretending to know. She had heard her sisters talk about some characteristics of ducks when they were hanging out together before, and she knew that it was impolite to call them male prostitutes.
Just like when a man goes to see a prostitute, he won't call a prostitute directly.
"How is that possible?" Although Vivian was drunk, she was still half sober. She looked at the handsome man from behind again and couldn't connect him with the profession of duck.
...
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