Guo Miao frowned. Looking at the listless youth, her memories suddenly came back.
In her previous life, when she met this man, he had not been like this.
He had purple hair, black-rimmed glasses, a playful smile on his face, and a deadly drug in his hand.
"The medicine you want is here. This can cure your depression. You must miss your daughter very much, right? Perhaps this will help you calm down." He shrugged nonchalantly. "You need to continue with your life, but you can't always be immersed in sadness, right? Just treat her as trash and throw her away."
What kind of person could describe someone else's dead daughter as trash that could be thrown away?
He had smiled mischievously and taken the money from Guo Fu's hand, weighing it in his hand.
Guo Fu had been very haggard at that time. His face had been covered in wrinkles, like a wrinkled walnut.
