Modern people find typing so difficult, Xia Xin once said that you need to learn something called Pinyin, which Jiangli still hasn’t figured out.
It’s quite a predicament at the moment.
"Abbot, do you want to reply to the message?" Lin Yurong saw Jiangli attempt to tap out the keyboard several times before stopping and guessed.
Jiangli frowned and nodded honestly, "I haven’t learned how to type yet..."
"Typing with Pinyin or Wubi might be a bit difficult, but Abbot, don’t you know how to write? You can use handwriting input," Lin Yurong recalled some everyday scenes and pointed out.
Jiangli’s spirits immediately lifted, "You can use handwriting? How do I do that?"
"This keyboard seems to be adjustable," Lin Yurong tapped on Jiangli’s phone screen, "I remember it’s here, if you tap here, you can switch the keyboard—yes, just like that. Bringing up this keyboard, you should be able to use handwriting now."
Lin Yurong found the handwriting panel mode and said, "Abbot, give it a try, it shouldn’t be a problem."
Jiangli looked at the completely different input screen, exclaimed with delight, "There’s such a method too! You’re amazing!"
Lin Yurong blushed with the compliment, smiling shyly. She thought these were very basic things, but the Abbot seemed to truly not understand.
Lin Yurong watched Jiangli.
Jiangli, having just discovered the handwriting mode, began to write vigorously with her finger.
Her face was both excited and serious.
The person who usually lacked a childlike demeanor seemed to only reveal his youthful spirit when dealing with these modern day-to-day activities.
Lin Yurong observed Jiangli with curiosity.
Jiangli was using traditional character input, and her handwriting was being recognized without any issue.
Although it was a bit slow, Jiangli still managed to send out a notification quite swiftly.
Jiangli: I won’t be drawing free slots for the coming two days due to other obligations, I won’t have the time. If it’s urgent, send a private message.
After completing the notification, Jiangli sent it out.
Not long after it was sent, people started commenting.
Jiangli clicked in and saw several comments expressing disappointment and complaining about their seeming inconsistency.
Jiangli chose to ignore them and turned to check the private messages, only to see a familiar ID.
It was none other than the deceptive lie.
That is, Wu Mei’s account.
Jiangli clicked to see and found Wu Mei had sent a long string of grateful messages.
It turns out Fan Siguo had woken up that evening and was no longer in critical condition.
And on that same day, the police had found the fugitive, Hen Cheng.
Once captured, Hen Cheng confessed everything out of fear, leaving no stone unturned.
He said that he had failed in an investment and had accrued a huge debt. Not giving up, he borrowed Talisman Coins, but the high interest rates were beyond his capacity to pay.
Under pressure from aggressive creditors, he came up with the idea of targeting Fan Siguo.
Because Fan Siguo was known to be generous and easy to deceive.
Over the years, Hen Cheng had repeatedly tricked Fan Siguo out of quite a substantial amount of money.
So he was convinced that Fan Siguo was gullible. All he needed to do was to concoct a fake project, persuade Fan Siguo to invest a considerable sum, and he could escape his current plight.
However, Fan Siguo was not as foolish as Hen Cheng had thought.
Before approaching Jiangli, Fan Siguo had instructed the responsible persons of his company to evaluate Hen Cheng’s project proposal to see if it was profitable.
Before any news came back, Jiangli’s popularity suddenly took off online.
Fan Siguo also took notice of Jiangli.
After consulting with Jiangli, the next day when Fan Siguo met with Hen Cheng, the evaluation from his company was also ready.
Upon investigation, his company had essentially determined Hen Cheng’s project to be a scam, a complete sham from start to finish.