Aunt Han felt a darkness descend before her eyes, narrowly avoiding fainting.
Was her own daughter so fragile inside?
To be so easily manipulated by others.
Struck down as nothing, then rescued with a guise of mercy.
Wasn't this outright psychological control?
The daughter she had carefully nurtured had become someone else's plaything.
While the family was in the midst of an uproarious argument,
the man whom her daughter liked returned home.
Upon seeing Aunt Han,
the man actually showed a hint of a triumphant smile.
"You better let her mother take this trash away. Don't embarrass us in our own home,"
the man's mother said venomously.
The man, however, seemed quite reasonable, "Auntie, you are Yao'er's mother, aren't you?"
Aunt Han looked at him with cold eyes and did not respond.
"It is your daughter who has been clinging to me. I haven't done anything."