OBS Chapter 1500 The Clever Man Choi Kookmin
Chapter 1500 The Clever Man Choi Kookmin
Chapter 1500 The Clever Man Choi Kookmin
After taking Erpang back to Grandpa Cui's house, Cui Guomin didn't linger. He quickly rode his old bicycle home for dinner. The sound of the bicycle chain scraping away gradually faded into the alley, eventually disappearing around the street corner.
The old lady had already started working in the kitchen. Wearing a faded blue apron, she was facing away from the door, deftly preparing the ingredients for dinner—several potatoes were already peeled and soaking in water, a piece of pork belly was on the cutting board, and there was a bunch of bright green scallions.
In the living room, Erpang went straight to the 14-inch black and white television as soon as he entered. The television was a secondhand item that Cui Guomin had bought from a flea market last year. Despite being secondhand, the picture was clear and the sound was loud, making it Erpang's greatest source of entertainment after school. He expertly pressed the power button, and static immediately appeared on the screen, followed by the logo of the city television station—a simple line drawing of a tall tower.
"The West Lake is beautiful in March, the spring rain is like wine and the willows are like smoke..." The theme song of "The Legend of the White Snake" floated from the TV. Erpang plopped down on a small stool, staring intently at the screen, humming along.
"Erpang." Old Master Cui's voice came from the inner room, carrying an unquestionable authority.
Erpang stiffened, turned around and looked back, only to find his grandfather standing at the door, holding today's newspaper in his hand.
"Look at it after you finish your homework."
Erpang's face immediately fell, and his lips pouted so high they looked like they could hang an oil bottle on them.
"Grandpa, I'll just watch for a little while, just a tiny bit!"
"No." Old Master Cui walked over and pressed the power button on the television. With a "snap," the screen went black, and the singing stopped abruptly.
"Do your homework first, then look at it."
Erpang reluctantly stood up and dragged himself toward his room, his back conveying an air of utter despair. He pushed open the door and slammed it shut with a dull thud.
Grandpa Cui shook his head, picked up the enamel teacup on the table, took a sip of tea, and continued reading his newspaper. Grandma Cui poked her head out from the kitchen and whispered, "What's wrong with the child watching TV for a while? He's tired enough from school all day."
"A doting mother spoils her son." Old Master Cui said without looking up, "This child is already lazy enough. If we continue to indulge him, what will become of him?"
The old lady pursed her lips, said nothing more, and turned back to continue cutting her pork belly.
Qin Hao sat on another chair in the main room, holding a copy of "100,000 Whys" that he had taken from Erpang's bookshelf. Hearing the noise from Erpang's room, he put down the book, got up, poured a glass of water, and carried the glass to Erpang's room.
The door was ajar, and Qin Hao gently pushed it open a crack. Inside, Erpang was slumped over his desk, a math workbook open in front of him, a pencil clutched in his hand, his head nodding as if he were dozing off. Qin Hao glanced at the workbook—there were ten word problems in total, but he had only done three, and the answers to those three problems looked wrong.
Seemingly sensing the gaze from outside the door, Erpang suddenly looked up, meeting Qin Hao's eyes. He immediately shrank back like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, clutching his homework, his face flushed red: "What are you looking at!"
The commotion attracted Old Master Cui's attention. He walked to the door, glared at Erpang, and said, "How dare you speak like that? This is your Uncle Ji Qiang!"
Erpang pouted and muttered under his breath, "I only have one uncle, where did this other uncle come from..."
Grandpa Cui shook his head helplessly and said to Qin Hao, "This child has been spoiled by his grandmother. He speaks without any manners. Please don't mind him."
Looking at the chubby boy's defiant face, Qin Hao suddenly had a wicked idea: "It's okay, he's just a kid. It's normal for him to encounter homework he can't do. I'll teach him."
Old Master Cui's eyes lit up. That's right, this guy was a top student who got into a prestigious Beijing university in the early 1980s; teaching a primary school student would be a piece of cake for him. But he still politely asked, "Wouldn't that be too much trouble?"
"No trouble at all." Qin Hao walked into the room, stood behind Erpang, and looked at the crooked handwriting: "Erpang is actually quite smart, but he just doesn't put his mind to studying. As long as you use my method, I can improve his grades by at least thirty places in less than three months."
For some reason, looking at Qin Hao's gentle smile, Erpang felt a chill run down his spine, sensing that something bad was lurking behind that smile. He shrank back, watching Qin Hao warily.
Upon hearing this, Grandpa Cui immediately perked up: "Then I'll leave it to you!"
"Look at what you're saying." Qin Hao waved his hand. "I'm eating and living here for free. It's only right that I tutor Erpang. Don't be so polite with me."
Grandpa Cui walked over with a smile and patted Erpang's head: "Did you hear that? Your Uncle Ji Qiang is kindly helping you with your studies, you can't let him down. Study hard, understand? Otherwise I'll tell your grandma never to make braised pork for you again!"
This was Erpang's Achilles' heel. His favorite food was his grandmother's braised pork belly, the glistening, tender pork belly that melted in his mouth, served with two large bowls of white rice. Upon hearing this threat, Erpang immediately wilted and reluctantly nodded, "Oh... I know."
"Alright, you can learn first." Grandpa Cui turned and left with satisfaction, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.
Once the footsteps faded away, the atmosphere in the room immediately changed.
Qin Hao's smile vanished, replaced by a serious expression. He stood behind Erpang, leaning over to look at the crooked handwriting on the homework, his brow furrowing slightly: "Look at your handwriting, it looks like a spider crawling. Handwriting reflects a person's face..."
Erpang pouted unconvinced: "Good handwriting doesn't put food on the table."
“Starting today, write one hundred commonly used characters every day, and write each character three times.” Qin Hao’s voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable firmness.
"What?!" Erpang immediately exploded, jumping up from his chair: "Does that mean I have to write three hundred characters? I still have homework to do, where am I going to find so much time to practice calligraphy?"
"Time is like water in a sponge; you can always squeeze some out." Qin Hao said calmly, "Take the time you spend watching TV every day, and watch it only when you finish writing."
"I won't do it!" Erpang threw down his pen and started to act like a spoiled child: "Why should I! I just won't write it!"
The noise quickly drew Old Master Cui over again. He pushed open the door, frowned, and asked, "What is it now?"
Qin Hao briefly explained the situation.
Grandpa Cui nodded repeatedly, finding Qin Hao's words reasonable: "Erpang, your Uncle Ji Qiang is doing this for your own good, don't be ridiculous!"
Erpang looked miserable, almost in tears: "But three hundred words a day is too much! And it has to be written neatly. I could write until my hand breaks!"
"Everything is difficult at the beginning." Qin Hao said seriously, "Once you get used to writing, you'll find that three hundred words are a piece of cake."
Grandpa Cui thought it made a lot of sense: "Yes, write it well. If you write it well, Grandpa will buy you candied hawthorns."
Candied hawthorns! Erpang's eyes lit up for a moment, but the thought of the terrifying task of writing three hundred words extinguished that light. He completely lost his temper, like a defeated little rooster, he slumped back into his chair, resignedly picked up his pen, and began to practice writing stroke by stroke.
Qin Hao stood to the side, patiently instructing: "This character '永' (yong), the horizontal stroke must be flat, and the vertical stroke must be straight. Look, write it like this..."
He took Erpang's hand and guided him to write a standard "永" (yong, meaning "eternity") character on a piece of paper.
Under Qin Hao's guidance, Erpang's handwriting gradually improved. Although it was still not neat enough, at least the stroke order could be seen, and the structure was much better than before.
Grandpa Cui watched for a while, praising repeatedly: "Look, isn't this very well written! You should learn from your Uncle Ji Qiang!"
Erpang had no way to express his suffering, so he could only grit his teeth and continue writing. After writing about fifty words, he started complaining, "My hand is sore! My wrist hurts! I can't write anymore!"
Grandpa Cui saw that Erpang's little face was all scrunched up and he really looked pitiful. Just as he was about to tell Erpang to take a rest, Qin Hao spoke up first: "Are your hands sore? Come on, let me massage them for you."
As he spoke, Qin Hao grasped Erpang's right wrist and gently massaged the wrist joint with his thumb. His technique was professional, with moderate pressure and precise placement. Erpang had only been pretending to cry out in pain, but unexpectedly, Qin Hao's massage and the perfect pressure actually relieved the soreness and swelling quite a bit.
He stared wide-eyed at Qin Hao in disbelief: "Huh? It's really not sour anymore?"
"Alright, let's continue." Qin Hao released his hand, his tone calm.
Erpang opened his mouth, wanting to say something but unable to, so he resignedly lowered his head and continued to struggle with those two hundred-odd words. The sky outside the window gradually darkened, and the only sounds in the room were the scratching of the pencil on the paper and Erpang's occasional soft sobs—he was truly exhausted from writing and wanted to cry.
……
By the time he finished writing all three hundred words, it was already 6:30. Erpang slumped in his chair, feeling like his right hand no longer belonged to him—it was sore and numb, and he didn't even have the strength to hold a pen. The old lady came in to call for dinner. Seeing her grandson in this state, she frowned with heartache, but because Grandpa Cui and Qin Hao were present, she didn't say anything.
At dinner, Erpang ate only one bowl of rice, which was unusual for him—he usually eats at least two bowls. When the braised pork was served, he didn't show his usual excitement; he just silently picked up a few pieces and mechanically put them in his mouth.
After dinner, as usual, it was time to watch TV. Erpang sat on a small stool, his eyes fixed on the screen, but his gaze was vacant, completely lacking his usual focused concentration. His mind was filled with the strokes of characters, the three hundred characters floating around in front of him like ghosts.
What frustrated him even more was that he still had three hundred words to write tomorrow.
After watching two episodes of a TV series, it was time to sleep. Erpang finished washing up, climbed into bed like a dead dog, and lay motionless. On the other side of the bed, Qin Hao was already lying down, breathing steadily, as if asleep.
Erpang turned his head and looked at Qin Hao's profile in the moonlight streaming through the window. After washing up, the man was quite handsome, with a straight nose and a strong jawline. But now, in Erpang's eyes, that face was practically the embodiment of a demon.
"Hmph." Erpang huffed and puffed out his cheeks, trying to push Qin Hao to the edge of the bed.
The result—"Bang!"
Erpang felt like he had bumped into an iron plate, no, even harder than an iron plate! Qin Hao's body didn't move at all, but his own buttocks were sore from the impact that he almost cried out.
He grimaced and rubbed his buttocks, his anger escalating. Once the pain subsided somewhat, he cautiously probed, "Ji Qiang... are you asleep?"
Qin Hao remained motionless, his breathing steady and long.
Erpang's eyes darted around, and a "revenge plan" took shape in his mind. He quietly sat up, grabbed his pillow, and prepared to smother Qin Hao's face—serves you right for forcing me to write! Serves you right for making my hand ache!
However, just as the pillow was about to fall, Qin Hao suddenly moved!
With a flick of his wrist, so fast it was almost invisible, he grabbed Erpang's wrist, twisted and flipped him over. Erpang felt dizzy and was flipped face down on the bed, his wrists firmly pinned behind his back, unable to move.
"You're not asleep!" Erpang was startled and struggled to get up, but found that Qin Hao's hand was like an iron clamp and he couldn't break free at all.
Qin Hao turned to his side, the moonlight shining on his face, his eyes glowing eerily in the darkness. He lowered his voice, "I was asleep, but you woke me up again."
"Let me go! What kind of skill is it to bully a child!" Erpang struggled and protested, but dared not raise his voice too loudly, for fear of attracting his grandparents.
Qin Hao remained unmoved, increasing the pressure on his hand: "This is self-defense. How will you know that doing wrong will be punished if I don't teach you a lesson?"
"Hmph!" Erpang retorted defiantly, "Don't think you're so great just because you know a little kung fu! My dad knows kung fu too! When he gets out, I'll have him beat you up!"
Qin Hao smiled indifferently: "Then let's wait until your dad comes out before we talk about it."
These words struck a nerve with Erpang. His eyes reddened, and he fell silent.
Qin Hao looked at the stubborn back of the child's head and sighed inwardly. He let go of him, turned Erpang over, and softened his tone: "For your grandpa's sake, I'll let it go this time. If there's a next time, watch out for a spanking."
Erpang, now free, quickly rolled to the other side of the bed, turning his back to Qin Hao and wrapping himself tightly in the blanket. He was incredibly resentful, but remembering Qin Hao's lightning-fast movements, he abandoned any thoughts of revenge.
The room quieted down, with only the occasional chirping of insects coming from outside the window.
After a long while, Erpang murmured in an almost inaudible voice, "Dad, when are you coming out..."
……
Early the next morning, Grandpa Cui went out. He put on his treasured Zhongshan suit, combed his hair meticulously, and carried a cloth bag containing two bottles of fine wine—Fenjiu, which he had specially bought at the supply and marketing cooperative the day before. Each bottle cost fifteen yuan, making it a very presentable gift.
"I'm going to see Lao Liu to take care of something. I'll be back at noon," Grandpa Cui told Grandma, then looked at Qin Hao, who was washing up in the yard: "Ji Qiang, wait for my news. If all goes well, we'll go to the police station this afternoon."
Qin Hao nodded: "Thank you for your help, Uncle Cui."
"Don't mention it, just wait here." Old Master Cui waved his hand and pushed his bicycle out the door.
The old lady made breakfast—millet porridge, pickled vegetables, and steamed buns. Erpang sat down at the table, still half asleep. When he saw Qin Hao, he immediately glared at him warily, then buried his head in his porridge, not saying a word the whole time.
After finishing his meal, Erpang slung his backpack over his shoulder and prepared to go to school. As he reached the door, Qin Hao called out to him, "When you come back tonight, it's still three hundred words. Don't forget."
Erpang stiffened for a moment, then walked away quickly with his head down without turning around or responding.
The old lady watched her grandson's retreating figure with a pang of heartache and said to Qin Hao, "Isn't three hundred words a bit too much? The child is still so young..."
“Auntie, being stricter now is for his own good.” Qin Hao’s tone was gentle but firm: “Study habits need to be formed from a young age. Once he goes to junior high and high school, there will be more courses, and it will be difficult to change his habits.”
The old lady sighed, said nothing more, and turned to clear the dishes.
Qin Hao helped carry the bowls and chopsticks into the kitchen, then returned to the main room and picked up yesterday's newspaper to read.
Around noon, the courtyard gate was pushed open. Old Master Cui walked in with a beaming smile; his cloth bag was empty, but his face was still radiant.
"It's all done!" the old man exclaimed as he entered the door. "Old Liu agreed to help. He said your situation is special, but it's not impossible. This afternoon, you'll come with me to the police station to have your photo taken and fill out the forms. Your ID card will be issued soon. Your household registration will be temporarily with me, and you can move it out when you have your own house later."
Qin Hao felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders and quickly stood up: "Uncle Cui, thank you so much!"
"No need for thanks, it's all my pleasure." Old Master Cui waved his hand: "Hurry up and eat, we'll go after we finish eating!"
Lunch was simple; the old lady made noodles with leftover braised pork from last night. Qin Hao ate quickly, his mind preoccupied with the afternoon's events.
After finishing their meal, Grandpa Cui got on his bicycle, Qin Hao sat on the back, and the two headed straight for the police station.
The police station was located in an old three-story building with a white sign with black lettering hanging at the entrance. Grandpa Cui was clearly a regular; he greeted the officer on duty at the door and then led Qin Hao straight up to the second floor, to the deputy director's office.
Deputy Director Liu was a middle-aged man in his fifties, slightly overweight, with a perpetual smile on his face, and seemed very amiable. After exchanging a few pleasantries with Old Master Cui, his gaze fell on Qin Hao: "You're Ji Qiang?"
“Yes, Director Liu, this is the child I told you about,” Old Master Cui quickly introduced.
Deputy Director Liu looked Qin Hao up and down and nodded: "Old Cui told me about your situation, which is indeed special. However, policies are fixed, but people are flexible. Here's what we'll do: fill out a form first, then go to the photo room on the first floor to have your photo taken. I'll submit the materials for you, and I'll notify you when it's approved."
"Thank you so much, Director Liu!" Qin Hao quickly expressed his gratitude.
"Don't mention it, thank the old man instead," Deputy Director Liu said with a smile.
The rest of the process went smoothly. Filling out forms, taking photos, and giving fingerprints. In the photo studio, Qin Hao sat on a stool with a blue cloth behind him. The photographer, an experienced man, instructed him: "Raise your head a little, yes, look at the camera, don't blink... Good!"
The flash went off, and the image froze.
It was already past 3 PM when they came out of the police station. Grandpa Cui patted Qin Hao on the shoulder: "Alright, you've taken the first step. Once your ID card is issued, you'll have official status."
Half a month later, Qin Hao finally got his ID card. Fortunately, there were still a few days left until the end of the month, so Qin Hao quickly went to the TV station to register.
Interestingly, I ran into Choi Kookmin when I registered.
"Ji Qiang? What are you doing here?" Cui Guomin asked in surprise.
Qin Hao pointed to the registration area: "I'm here to register for the karaoke competition. What about you, Brother Cui?"
Cui Guomin patted his pocket and laughed, "What a coincidence, I'm here to register too. My daughter wants to buy a Xiali, but we're a little short of money, so I'm here to try my luck."
"Then, see you at the preliminary rounds." Qin Hao extended his hand.
Cui Guomin grasped his hand and shook it vigorously: "Okay! See you at the audition! I need to register quickly too, or I'll be off work soon." After saying that, he waved to Qin Hao and strode towards the registration area.
Watching Cui Guomin queue up, Qin Hao chuckled inwardly. Cui Guomin was indeed very smart, quick to learn anything, and multi-talented. But precisely because of this, he always thought he was better than others, lacked perseverance in everything he did, and always thought "I can do it," which often resulted in him failing at the details.
Choi Kookmin's later tragedy was largely caused by this personality trait. He always thought he was smarter than others and always did things recklessly, without considering the consequences.
"Let's start with this karaoke competition and give you a blow to your confidence!" Qin Hao thought to himself, a smile playing on his lips.
……
After getting off work, Cui Guomin first picked up his daughter Cui Meng from school, and then rode his bicycle home.
Back home, Cui Guomin told his wife, Li Xiaozhen, about encountering Qin Hao signing up for the competition.
Li Xiaozhen was cooking in the kitchen when she heard this and was clearly taken aback: "Ji Qiang? Participating in the Karaoke Grand Prix? And for the prize money?"
"Didn't expect that, did you?" Cui Guomin changed out of his work clothes and hung them on the coat rack behind the door.
Li Xiaozhen shook her head as she stirred the food in the pot: "Can Ji Qiang sing? I've only ever seen him do math problems. His advanced mathematics book gives me a headache."
"Who knows? Maybe she's just very talented," Choi Kookmin said half-jokingly, walking into the kitchen and hugging his wife from behind. "Just like me."
Li Xiaozhen was amused by him and gently nudged him with her elbow: "Go away, don't cause trouble here. Are all college students from the 1980s like this? You can do math problems and sing songs at the same time?"
"Besides your husband, have you ever seen any other college student as talented as me?" Cui Guomin said with a smug smile. "Anyway, most of my classmates are quiet types who just read books and do exercises all day long."
Li Xiaozhen retorted, "You're just bragging. Why don't you say that your classmates are now building rockets and airplanes, and they're all senior engineers whose monthly salaries are equivalent to yours for half a year?"
Choi Kookmin didn't take it seriously: "If I were the kind of person who just buries himself in building rockets, would you have been interested in me? Weren't you captivated by the way I played guitar and sang?"
Li Xiaozhen laughed too. Yes, wasn't she initially captivated by her husband's many talents?
As the two were chatting and laughing, their daughter, Cui Meng, came out of her room after finishing her homework: "Dad, our teacher wants you to go to school tomorrow."
Cui Guomin was taken aback: "What's wrong? Wasn't the parent-teacher meeting last month?"
“It wasn’t me, it was Erpang,” Cui Meng said.
"Erpang? What happened to him? Did he get into trouble again?"
"Yeah, I got into a fight with a classmate."
Cui Guomin didn't take it to heart. Boys, what boy doesn't fight? He got into plenty of fights when he was a kid too.
"Okay, I see."
The next morning, Cui Guomin clocked in at the factory, said goodbye to his coworkers, and prepared to skip work to go to school. His colleague Liu Ye, seeing him changing clothes, reminded him, "Guomin, the new factory manager is making an example of someone. He even held a meeting yesterday saying he wanted to rectify labor discipline. You'd better take it easy; if you really can't, ask for leave."
“Yeah,” Zhao Hailong chimed in. “A new broom sweeps clean, so don’t provoke him. Taking sick leave or personal leave is better than skipping work.”
Cui Guomin looked completely indifferent as he buttoned his shirt and said, "We mechanics only need to make sure the machines don't break down. Otherwise, even if we live in the factory every day, it's all for nothing if we can't fix the machines. Besides, I have important business at the school; Erpang's homeroom teacher is looking for me."
Liu Ye and Zhao Hailong exchanged a glance and shook their heads. Liu Ye said, "We can't argue with you. You figure it out. But if you get caught, don't say we didn't warn you."
Cui Guomin patted the thick stack of manuscript paper on the table—it was a "ten-thousand-word letter" he had spent half a month writing, proposing suggestions for the factory's equipment upgrades and technological transformations.
“If the new factory manager is really a man of action, he should renovate our factory according to my plan. Many of our machines are older than me, and their precision is simply unacceptable. If we continue like this, our factory will eventually be squeezed out by those factories in the south.”
He had said this many times, and his coworkers had heard it many times as well. At first, they thought it made sense, but as time went on, they realized that the factory leaders didn't take it seriously at all, so they stopped bringing it up.
Seeing that they couldn't persuade him, Liu Ye and Zhao Hailong stopped talking and continued with their work. Cui Guomin got on his bicycle and left the factory area.
The school wasn't far from the machinery factory; it was only a ten-minute bike ride away. Cui Guomin parked his bicycle in the bike shed and, following Cui Meng's directions, found the third-grade teachers' office.
Knock on the door, and a woman's voice came from inside: "Come in."
Cui Guomin pushed open the door and went in. There were three teachers sitting in the office. The one by the window looked up, and when he saw him, he was obviously stunned for a moment. Then his eyes slowly widened and a look of surprise appeared on his face.
“Cui…Cui Guomin?” Teacher Wang stood up.
After chatting for a while, Cui Guomin discovered that Teacher Wang was actually his schoolmate. Although they weren't in the same class, Cui Guomin was a popular figure in the whole school during high school, and coincidentally, Teacher Wang was one of Cui Guomin's former admirers.
After calming down, Teacher Wang adjusted his glasses and nodded, saying, "Yes, Huo Xiaoyang is a student in my class. I didn't expect... you're his uncle?"
“Yes, it’s my sister’s child.” Cui Guomin sat down in the chair opposite the desk: “What happened to Erpang? Did you hurt him? Do you want to pay for medical expenses or something? Just tell me how much, I’ll pay.”
Teacher Wang quickly waved her hand: "No need for that. I've already looked into it. It was other children who talked about Huo Xiaoyang's father... that's why he hit him. I've already given him a serious reprimand, and the other parents have expressed their understanding."
Cui Guomin nodded upon hearing this. Erpang's father, who was also his brother-in-law, had been imprisoned for some reason, and this had always been a source of pain for Erpang. While it was wrong for Erpang to retaliate when a child brought it up, it was understandable given the circumstances.
"Then why did you call me here..." Cui Guomin asked, somewhat puzzled. If it wasn't about fighting, then what could it be?
Teacher Wang took two notebooks out of the drawer and pushed them in front of Cui Guomin: "Here's what happened. I noticed that Huo Xiaoyang's handwriting in his recent homework is completely different from his handwriting in class. Look, this is what he wrote in class at school, and this is his homework."
Cui Guomin glanced at the notebook and immediately understood why the teacher had been suspicious. The handwriting in one notebook was crooked and uneven, a typical "spider crawl"; the handwriting in the other notebook, however, was neat and orderly, with straight lines and even strokes. Although it still had a childish quality, it was already quite presentable. It didn't look like a primary school student's handwriting, but rather... like an adult deliberately imitating it?
"You suspect someone did his homework for him?" Choi Kookmin frowned.
"I do have that suspicion," Teacher Wang said earnestly. "And the person helping him with his homework is quite well-educated. Look at the structure and strokes of these characters; you couldn't write them without considerable skill. Brother Cui... Brother Cui, are you helping Huo Xiaoyang with his homework?"
“Absolutely not.” Cui Guomin immediately denied it: “First of all, I definitely didn’t help Huo Xiaoyang with his homework. I rarely even take care of my own daughter, how could I have time to take care of him? Secondly, it definitely wasn’t my daughter Cui Meng who did it for him. I recognize Mengmeng’s handwriting, it’s not like that. Her handwriting is more delicate…”
Cui Guomin thought for a moment and said, "How about this, Teacher Wang, I'll go back and find out what's going on."
"Okay, then we'll talk again." Teacher Wang smiled and saw Cui Guomin out of the office.