"Director Huang... Director Huang, good morning."
When Mu Zhiyang said this, he completely let go; he hit rock bottom.
Anyway, it wasn't working hours now, and even if he knelt on the bed and kowtowed eight times to Huang Qiangmin to prove his submission, Huang Qiangmin probably wouldn't believe him, right?
Mu Zhiyang wouldn't believe it himself. Nowadays, people visit the Chenghuang Temple and only kowtow three times. You see a seven-meter-eight crocodile, and you kowtow eight times—whom are you kidding?
Besides, Mu Zhiyang's leg was still in a sling, he couldn't turn over, let alone kneel—it was physically impossible for him to be so subservient.
Huang Qiangmin was amused by Mu Zhiyang's "Director Huang."
The corners of his mouth, which were at 44.4 degrees, suddenly turned into 48.48 degrees.
Huang Qiangmin said, "Good morning, Captain Mu. How's your recovery going?"
Mu Zhiyang, trying to come across as humble, said, "Captain Huang, we were just talking big..."