"What does he take me for? Who does he think I am?" As she muttered this phrase over and over, Old Mrs. Qiao didn't seem to know whom she was cursing. Her lips quivered as she looked at the judges on the bench, her voice almost choking up, "This is unfair, unfair... Who will stand up for me, who will stand up for me?"
"Mom... don't be angry, let's not be angry, alright?"
"Yes, grandma, we can still appeal. This isn't the final judgment..."
"Why! Why!" Old Mrs. Qiao screamed hysterically, falling into a sort of madness.
She was usually a composed and self-respecting person; yelling in court was beyond her imagination.
The bailiffs came over to persuade her, but they didn't dare to get close, nor did they dare to trouble her.
An octogenarian making a scene anywhere is "reasonable," and no one dared to provoke her.
The scene had become chaotic.
Old Mrs. Qiao's breakdown and crying made Qiao Zhengchong furrow his brows.
