Outside Abyss Bay Port, a minibus carried a middle-aged driver and six passengers. Four of them were middle-aged men in gray coats, and one was a young woman.
"Ah Sheng, haven't you finished writing yet?" The middle-aged driver turned to look back at one of the middle-aged men. The man was writing on a piece of paper. He asked with a strong, standard Mandarin accent, "What does this 'signing' mean?"
"Ah Sheng, signing just means signing," the middle-aged driver said irritably.
"Then what should I write?"
"Ah Sheng, haven't you signed something before?"
"No. What exactly should I write?"
"You need to think about it, Ah Sheng."
"I don't know. What exactly should I write?"
The young woman couldn't help but intervene, "It means to sign your name."
The middle-aged man finally understood. He whispered something to his three companions, and then they all used ballpoint pens to write their names on the paper.
