"Menglong, how was your National Day holiday?" Early the next morning, Zhang Menglong received a call from his senior, Zhu Mengchao.
"Not bad, how about you, senior?"
"For us miserable doctoral students, of course we spent it swinging those bottles and jars in the lab," Zhu Mengchao said helplessly. "I don't even know what got into my head back then, finishing my master's and then pursuing a doctorate. My hair gets thinner by the day, and my pockets never seem to bulge."
"Don't you get quite a bit of subsidy every month?" Zhang Menglong asked curiously.
"Subsidy? Come on! The 3,000 the school gives is barely enough to live on. If your girlfriend buys anything, it's game over. Old Han's research funding is too tight this year. Our pay has been cut from 4,000 a month to 800. It's enough to make you cry!"
