At the Beijing Exhibition Center.
Backstage.
Zhang Ye and Yao Jiancai returned.
"Teachers, you've worked hard!"
"Quick, have some water!"
"Quickly, take a seat!"
Zhang Ye was fine, but Old Yao was sweating profusely.
Yao Jiancai had some water and wiped away his sweat. "The audience was so passionate!"
Zhang Ye laughed and said, "Yeah, but it felt really satisfying."
Yao Jiancai slapped his thigh and said, "That's right, performing the crosstalk was a great way to blow off steam. Even if you don't pay me for this job, I'd still do it!"
"Alright then." Zhang Ye told the organizer's staff, "Transfer the money that was meant for Old Yao to me."
Yao Jiancai burst into laughter. "Fuck off!"
The staff members were also laughing at this.
Di di di. Zhang Ye's phone rang with a notification.
It was a text from his mother: "Son, that was a great performance."
