"I have to go now!" Margaret stood up, walked over to the wall, and pulled the power cord of the simulation computer.
The virtual screen of the simulation computer turned pitch black after a flash.
Fatty turned his head with tears in his eyes, glaring at Margaret, his lips trembling: "You'll be nailed to the pillar of shame!"
"Nail me wherever you want." Margaret walked over to Fatty, hooked her finger under his chin, the woman's scent spreading quietly like a gentle night breeze, soaking into Fatty's nostrils.
"I won't be playing against you anymore. So your victory rate will forever be thirty percent." Margaret's rosy lips were almost touching Fatty's face. When she bent down, her curves wrapped in a T-shirt and cotton skirt were breathtakingly tight. Seeing Fatty's gloomy expression, the smile on the girl's lips grew even more triumphant.
