"Xiaocheng, how can you speak to your mother like that?" Mr. Huangpu, as stiff as a wooden stake, finally spoke, his face clearly ablaze with anger.
Fu Han's gaze fell on Mr. Huangpu. He was tall and sturdy, having gained weight with middle age; his belly protruded as if he were a woman five months pregnant.
But even so, one could still discern from his current facial features just how handsome he had been in his youth, much like Su Cheng at this moment.
Fu Han drifted off at a time when she really shouldn't have, so much so that she didn't catch a single word of the heated argument between the family of three from Su Cheng; she only vaguely sensed that their quarrel was escalating.
Suddenly, a hand reached out on a slant and pulled Fu Han back three steps.
As Fu Han turned her head, she saw He Xing's face and immediately stopped her inopportune daydreaming.
