"I know, it's all my own doing." Chen Jingzi stood in front of a pile of roadside stall handbags, not daring to lift her head. The tracks of humiliating tears streaked down her cheeks, but she didn't dare let Qiaoqiao see. "Mrs. Yun, I will remember your words."
Qiaoqiao suddenly realized she had said too much and added, "you just need to remember not to do anything that would harm Jiajia in the future."
After saying this, Qiaoqiao turned around and left.
It was only then that Chen Jingzi raised her head, following Qiaoqiao's retreating figure with her gaze.
Truthfully, Qiaoqiao's gait wasn't graceful, nor did she carry the haughty air of a noblewoman; instead, she was rather girlish, lively and sprightly.
But in Chen Jingzi's eyes, Qiaoqiao was the lofty Mrs. Yun, with a domineering aura and an invisible power that could make her feel utterly humiliated.
Chen Jingzi clutched the money that Qiaoqiao had given her, realizing that she had lost even her basic dignity.
