Perhaps the owner of the restaurant saw that they had a dispute and kindly erased the odds at the checkout.
“A total of sixty-seven yuan, just give sixty.” The boss pointed to the wall, “Wechat and Pay|bao are all scanned there.”
Ethan Shen’s phone was turned off, and Jasmine Lin fumbled in his pocket when he pressed the power button for a long time.
There was nothing, and then I remembered that the phone had been dropped at West Gate.
She didn’t pick it up.
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