"Are you damn directing me to take photos or to commit suicide?" Bai Bufan gritted his teeth.
If I die like this, even Conan couldn't find the killer. Who says there's no perfect crime?
"You're just being clueless. I fake play with monitor Ding Sihan and the others, so the photos are all fake, just tourist snaps with zero artistic sense.
But what relationship do we have? I'm planning to take you a 'Flying Bai Bufan', something to submit for this year's Pulitzer Prize. Trust me, buddy, jump over, come on, would I ever harm you?"
Lin Li frowned, not liking this feeling of distrust, and then added:
"By the way, your mobile payment password hasn't changed, right? If it has, let me know, it's quite important."
Bai Bufan: "..."
"Bro, pretend play with me too, I want tourist photos, no art." Bai Bufan pleaded.
So vulgar, no aspiration.
Lin Li was disappointed that his desk mate and brother was such a person, but since Bai Bufan insisted, he had to give up.
