On December 22, Qi took his wages and bought himself a pair of leather shoes.

The pair of leather shoes is made of wooden boards as the bottom core. The bottom core is patched with a layer of thick burlap, a layer of fine linen and a layer of dragon leather. The upper is lined with rabbit leather and the exterior is decorated with dragon leather.

Such a pair of shoes cost him thirty dollars, which is equivalent to a stone of millet.

In the past, only wealthy people with hundreds of acres of land in their homes could afford such valuable things. Now he has bought them to wear.

Although, he doesn't need such thick shoes.

When the shoes were bought, the paint took off his old shoes and changed into these new shoes.

The shoes fit very well and are very warm to wear. They are soft on the ground. The feet seem to be stepped into hot water, or on clouds.

After buying this pair of shoes, I bought some wine and drinks that I had just been allowed to sell in the cafeteria these days. I just bought the dog meat that I had not finished eating the day before yesterday, and called a few familiar old workers to eat and drink.

A few people were full and drunk, which should have been a time to talk, but they had nothing to say to each other.

What are you talking about?

He thought.

There was nothing to say, so I stopped talking.

They each went to sleep.

After that, Qi planned to save some money, so he didn't spend any of the subsequent salary and bonuses, and only placed it in the hands of the Mozhe.

December 29th is the day to pay monthly wages.

The workers got off work early, and according to their working years, they were divided into three teams by the Messengers.

Qi, Yue, Jie and others were only a rare skilled workers who had been working for three years. They lined up front and back, waiting to get the money.

"Twenty-five cents a day, and I'll do my job for 27 days this month. I don't work overtime, and I'll charge each person with 675 cents." The ink masters shouted loudly.

The paint was lined up in the line and did not take this sentence seriously.

He only worked for 27 days a month, which was the regulation when the copper and iron furnace was opened. Later, it was changed. Now he has changed it back. However, he thought that the friends who entered the construction site were either exhausted from living on the construction site, or because they gathered together and wanted to resign, they became typical examples, killed, and their heads were cut off and passed on to everyone.

With this thought, the lacquer felt a little uncomfortable.

But what's uncomfortable?

Could it be that the money is missing? Chi touched his chest.

Probably not.

The queue was up to him.

He then got his wages.

After taking the money, he did not leave. Instead, like the few people in front of him, he sat cross-legged on the ground and slowly counted the money.

He knows how to do mathematics and has no idea about simple calculations of numbers above fifty. So the only way he can verify whether his money has been deducted and whether Qin Wangzheng's words are the truth - this is the only way to count money.

If the amount of money is correct, then it proves that Qin Wangzheng did not lie!

He thought so.

The idea is simple and stubborn.

Qin Wangzheng said that he has done it now after working for three and a half hours a day.

If the money he said was given was also given, then Qin Wangzheng would be trustworthy!

He thought.

"One twenty-five, two twenty-five..."

He lowered his head and counted the money seriously. The more he counted the money, the brighter his eyes and the more excited he was.

Money is definitely enough.

He actually had speculation in his mind.

Because the ink masters have very clear calculations.

Because the money in your hand does weigh about the same amount.

But he couldn't believe it.

So he wanted to count the money.

Twenty-seven twenty-five.

Twenty-seven days, twenty-five cents a day.

Enough money!

He was so happy that tears flowed out of his eyes.

But he didn't know why he cried.

Not very sad.

With the money, he found the man who had always saved money: "I want to save money!"

He said so.

The ink master was originally consuming rice with a spoon, but was shocked by the yelling of paint so loudly, and instantly scared the rice spoon to the ground.

He felt a little angry after he realized it, so he turned cold and was very dissatisfied: "How much does it save?"

"Six hundred and seventy-five cents!" Qi's eyes were filled with tears, and he shouted loudly, extremely serious.

"So much?" Mozhe frowned: "Don't you leave some money to turn over expenses?"

"No." Qi handed the money to the Mozhe with a large string of money.

He saw the ink man pull out the bamboo slips, lift up the pen, and write the words behind his name.

"paint"

This word, when Mozhe was in a good mood, he once taught him.

He recognizes it.

"How much money did I save with you?" Qi suddenly asked.

"Two thousand six hundred and sixty cents." The Mozhe glanced at the data on the bamboo slips and answered casually.

"How much is this six hundred and seventy-five cents?"

"Three thousand three hundred and thirty-five cents." The man made up his mind and then answered.

"Can I take out three thousand three hundred and thirty-five cents?" Qi asked.

Mozhe stopped counting money and looked at Qi strangely: "Are you leaving?"

"No, I'll withdraw the money." Qi Jing said seriously.

"Do you have to take them all?" The ink man looked up and down at the paint.

Qi Chong nodded heavily: "Take it all out!"

"Yes..." Mozhe didn't know what disease he had, but he agreed: "You can wait a moment."

He then took three coins from the counter behind him, counted three hundred and thirty-five coins from the money he had just given him, and handed them over to the paint.

"Your money is 3,335 cents." The ink-speaker pushed the money in front of the paint, then picked up a pen and outlined the name of the paint.

Qi took the money, but instead of taking it away, he pushed it back to Mozhe again: "I want to save money!"

Mozhe was picking up the spoon and was about to eat. When he saw this scene, he suddenly became angry: "Are you teasing me?"

"I want to save money!" Qi said, "Three thousand three hundred and thirty-five cents!"

The ink was so angry that he was so angry that he put down his bowl, picked up his pen, re-entered the name of the paint, and outlined the "3,335 qian".

The lacquer looked at the ink master and tears couldn't stop flowing down.

He cried.

Finally I couldn't help it.

When Mozhe saw him crying, he became even more annoyed: "What am I doing to you yet!"

A seven-foot husband cried for no reason. Is it embarrassing to lose it?

The Mozhe felt a little angry.

Qi laughed while crying: "I'm fine."

"I have something to do!" Mozhe kicked the lacquer to the ground.

Qi still shed tears, and the smile on his face turned into a painful hideous state. After a while, he continued to smile.

The ink master is confused at all, both bored and angry.

He started crying even though he didn't touch him; he kicked him and laughed again.

I'm afraid this person has lost his mind, right?

When he thought of this, he couldn't help but feel a little upset.
To be continued...