"Was it that you didn't calculate, or couldn't calculate it?" Zeng Meili snorted coldly, "You may not have counted, but I have kept track for you. In three months, you've been in over twenty fights, averaging a fight every four days. Tell me, did you come here to be a soldier, or to find punching bags for practice?"
"Humph..."
The ridicule from the crowd didn't embarrass Sun Xiaowei; instead, he puffed out his chest, "Reporting to the captain, this can't be blamed on me. A soldier must have spirit. Of course, I can't pretend to be scared when openly mocked."
"Then tell me, are you dark-skinned or not?"
"Not dark!"
"Hahaha..."
The crowd burst into laughter, as if a person dug out from a pile of coal could think himself not dark-skinned—then truly, there might not be any black people left in this world.
Zeng Meili had a look of helplessness on her face, "Alright, maybe we have different definitions of 'black'. Then tell me, who in the team has the darkest skin?"
