The school grass's sales contract

"Hey, hey, help! This is not voluntary, it's forced!" The stern-faced strong man squeezed my right hand and gesticulated on the paper. What was signed was not my handwriting, but his handwriting!My hand is about to be crushed by him.

"That's not counting, let me tell you," I stared at the surname Yuan, furious, "Yuan Yan, right? I think you've watched too many TV dramas, what's wrong with learning, like others playing contracts?"

"What's so great about having money? You have no place to spend it. I think you will get paranoid sooner or later."

What a waste of my saliva, that kid turned a deaf ear.

There are people in this world who only listen to what they want to hear.

My old grass is not so easy to mess with, I can sail against the wind.

"Ah! What are you doing!" My neck tightened, and the guitar pendant that I hadn't worn for a few days was instantly torn off.

I love the guitar pendant!

"Give me back!" I yelled at him as he stuffed my silver necklace into his trouser pocket.

"This is my cell phone number, I know it by heart," he seemed to be giving orders, with a certain style.

I looked at the line of numbers on the paper and couldn't help laughing.

"13145205420," I repeated it, feeling a little embarrassed.

It seems that there is a kind of paranoia called erotic delusion.That kid should still be very sick.