"Zhao Huaimin, is your brain stuffed with shit!?"
"What the hell are you staring at, can't you see the news? Damn it, he was publicly praised just a few days ago, and now he's under siege and you're indifferent..."
"You're all in cahoots, snakes and rats working together!"
"Damn it, the people studying journalism are all like this. I knew you were trouble..."
The moment the call connected.
Wu Chengjun's mouth was like a machine gun, spewing a string of words instantly.
On the other end, a nearly fifty-year-old man named Zhao Huaimin's face turned visibly red, yet he couldn't find an opportunity to speak.
What do you mean, all journalism students are like this!?
Is he really that kind of person!!!
For a long time.
It was Professor Zhang who couldn't stand it any longer and stopped Wu Chengjun, sighing:
"Old Wu, you should speak less. You haven't even given Old Zhao a chance to talk..."
Upon hearing this, Wu Chengjun merely snorted coldly and fell silent.
