The fatty shot you a sideways glance and said gruffly, "What Zongzi? My name is Rice Cake."
"God almighty! If I get within ten meters of you, I could smell your reek from a country mile away."
"Really?"
Zong Wangyue habitually raised his hand, sniffed his armpit, and with a dead serious face, said to you, "No way, this morning before I left, my main squeeze sprayed some perfume on me."
With an eye roll, you reached out, dragged him over to you, and wedged his head under your armpit: "You haven't answered my earlier question yet!"
