"What do you mean by wailing like at a funeral? I am in mourning!" Lin Jiazhong had long harbored dissatisfaction with his deceitful younger brother, and now everything about him was irksome.
"Are you ever going to finish?" Lin Jiaxiao's eyes bulged with anger, "If you don't start talking, I'm leaving!"
"Who are you trying to intimidate? And you call yourself 'sir'! If you're the big man, then cough up the silver, didn't you work in the town for several months? You must have made a tidy sum, just right to show some filial piety to our father!"
Seeing Lin Jiazhong's outstretched hand, a chill ran down Lin Jiaxiao's spine—he knew this old fool had nothing good for him, and even hiding inside, he was still called out.
Lin Jiaxiao rolled his eyes, thinking he could get money from him? No chance!
"No money!"
