A certain literary giant once said.
Human joys and sorrows do not communicate with each other.
While passion bursts forth on one side, the other is overshadowed by dark clouds.
Miss Shi ate her food in silence, without saying a word.
Shi Zhenhua sat in the seat of honor.
Meng Meiling, who had only returned home at dusk, was seated on the other side of the long table.
The family, all together.
But the atmosphere was quite solemn.
"I have met with that young man, and he is smart," he said.
"Mom, are you talking about Jiang Chen?"
Miss Shi, who had cried in the afternoon, seemed to have calmed down a lot.
"Yes."
Meng Meiling nodded and said bluntly, "I gave him a million to leave you, and he agreed very decisively."
Miss Shi seemed not surprised at all, only murmuring something under her breath.
"What are you saying?"
The husband and wife had clear roles, one to deal with the young man and the other to soothe the daughter, which was the case now.
