Ye Xingchen walked up to Qian Zhong and saw that he had already curled up into a ball. In his hand, there was only the plum that he had despised just now.
A cracked plum might even be able to support him and let him live for another day.
Ye Xingchen's eyes were cold as he stepped on his clenched fist.
The hard and rough soles of the snow boots crushed Qian Zhong's fist. Under the pressure, the similarly rough gloves rubbed against the back of Qian Zhong's hand. He screamed in pain and subconsciously let go.
A round plum rolled out of his hand. Ye Xingchen lifted his foot and stepped on it. It was just that it was too hard and he could not crush the plum directly.
Under Qian Zhong's despairing gaze, Ye Xingchen slowly opened his mouth and said, "Be more obedient next time. I said that I won't raise idle people. If you don't contribute, don't even think about eating!"
