When Qin Miaomiao got home, it was around ten o'clock. After a whole day of slapping faces, stirring public opinion, and managing it, she was completely drained.
She reached the door, pressed her fingerprint on the lock, and walked in. Her sleepy eyes could barely stay open.
Yet, in her bleary state, something felt... off. What exactly was off?
It took her quite a while to realize, and then she let out a scream, "Ahh! When did my floor turn into this money-covered pattern floor?"
What a tacky design!
Wait, no. She crouched down and touched it with her hand. Holy crap—these were actual RMB bills, covering the entire floor of the house!
Her heart clenched in pain, as if someone had punched her right in the chest. Such waste! This was such an extravagant waste!
How long would it even take to pick up all this cash?
If she didn't pick it up? Ha! That would absolutely drive anyone with OCD insane. Who could sleep with money scattered everywhere? It'd be impossible to get any rest!
