Lu Jiang had clearly seen this situation as well and couldn't help but frown, driving straight home.
Having not returned for several years, logically, the days in the city should have gotten better since the famine had passed for a few years now, and things should have recovered. Yet, the result was a smoggy mess, completely in ruins, practically hell on earth.
The procession on the streets, the posters plastered all over the walls, the stages erected all over—it all melded into a bitterly unbearable landscape.
Fubao was extremely sensitive and shrank into Feng Qingxue's embrace in fear.
"Fubao is good, Fubao isn't scared, Mommy is holding Fubao," Feng Qingxue hugged her, preventing her from seeing outside, even covering her ears so she wouldn't hear the sounds of smashing and insults coming from some houses as they passed by.
Wang Zhengguo exhaled deeply, a glimmer of distress flashing across his eyes, but he said nothing.
Silence pervaded the entire carriage.
