Shen Qinghe's face was dark and somber, and there was a faint anger in his voice, "The cellar is being pressed down, and we can't move the beams out for a while. It seems we'll only have sweet potatoes to eat tonight."
After speaking, he scoffed coldly, "I don't know if it could be considered that the little thief still has some conscience, leaving us a bag of sweet potatoes."
Ms. Qin's eyes were already red as she cursed softly, "This person is really a son of a bitch, doing such despicable things at a time like this, stealing food even from someone in postpartum without fear of choking to death."