Ouyang was about to lose his cool, and Uncle Luo's attack had just begun.
Under Qu Jing's direction, Uncle Luo unclenched his fists, started lifting his arm, changed to a comfortable position, leaned back on the sofa, and glanced at Xiao Luo, who was filming at the back.
"You with the camera, I remember you were the one taking photos last time. Is there no one else at the neighborhood committee who knows how to use a camera? The young guy who took my photo in Shanghai 80 years ago did a better job than you. Chen Huihong, you're not someone who pinches pennies, so why not spend a bit to hire a professional? What's the big deal?"
"Professional people should do professional things. How many professionals are there at your neighborhood committee? I saw that article from your public account last time. Made me look like some lonely old man! Do I look like a pitiful creature?"
