Three hours later, at the provincial capital's highway toll station, Xiao Ming saw Zhou Jicang's car.
He steered toward it, and before he even came to a stop, he saw Zhou Qingyuan running down and peering into the car through the window.
"Why are you driving Yun Feiwen's car? Where is that guy?"
Xiao Ming got out of the car and pointed to the trunk, asking, "Is this guy very famous?"
"Quite famous," Zhou Qingyuan said with a nod, smiling, "It's not unusual for a family of heritage to have a good-for-nothing, but it's not easy to have one who's both a good-for-nothing and tasteless, who talks and acts like a nouveau riche second-generation idiot."
Thinking about Yun Feiwen's behavior and speech, Xiao Ming felt that Zhou Qingyuan wasn't wrong.
Many people don't know, but actually, there are ranks among the second generations.
The more top-notch the family, the stricter the upbringing.