Director Hu had a face like Maitreya Buddha: kind and round. His accent was quite interesting. He often spoke with a soft, trailing tone that seemed to emphasize something while also giving off a light and airy sense of closeness.
In other words—worthless.
Han Lie grasped his hand with both of his, replying with an even more enthusiastic display of insincere courtesies.
"Oh, I can't call you Director Hu anymore, I should call you Uncle Hu!"
"HAHA! That's right!"
Old Huang watched Han Lie handle the situation with ease, his smile growing more benevolent and satisfied. After they chatted for a brief three minutes, he gestured, "Tang, go help Teacher Han pick out a set of clothes and a golf club. We tee off at 9:30 sharp!"
"Okay."
Dressed in her golf attire, Tang Xintian wore her hair in a ponytail today, capped with a hoop-style sun visor, giving her an air of brisk vigor.
