"Hey, hey, hey, ladies and gentlemen, hello everyone, here is your loyal Fatty hosting an exclusive private concert. Now, please welcome my two little friends.
'Deep Well White' and 'Muscle Buddha,' say hi to everyone. I'm really glad they could come to my farewell concert, I'm touched, really, very touched."
The fat guy, using his fist as a microphone, actually lowered his head to wipe away a tear. That tear didn't seem fake, because looking back, one could see that the incense stick had already burned four-fifths.
The three didn't plan to take action; they were planning to await their fate and see what happens. As for the broadcast's choice of letting either Foye or White die, or everyone together, it didn't matter. Since the broadcast made such simple, straightforward, shameless task rules, all we could do was express our dissatisfaction in this way and handle it passively.
"Dear audience friends, here's 'Liang Liang' for you all, because we are soon going to chill."
