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"Hehe, I want a feast!"
"Dream on, I'll just get you a kid's meal." Xu Qingyan staggered out the door, playing with his phone, yawning with his hand covering his mouth, "The typhoon's gone. Why's there still a wind blowing today."
In front of the show's cameras, each of them had a stick of deep-fried dough, sitting at a small food stall.
Xu Qingyan stubbornly refused to buy soy milk for six yuan, claiming that even in an apocalypse, soy milk couldn't sell for six yuan. In the end, reluctantly and with much dismay, he bought Shen Jinyue a cup.
Damn it, what a rip-off, Somali prices.
On the way back, Shen Jinyue saw Xu Qingyan's pained expression, as if the words "I've been ripped off" were written all over his face.
"Are you unhappy?"
"No, I just don't ever want to come back to this damn island." Xu Qingyan sounded desolate, "It's a real rip-off, a soy milk machine costs only about a hundred yuan, right?"
Shen Jinyue hesitated, "Do you want me to..."
"No need."