"I heard it at that time; they said it was preserved goods given by paupers, all decayed and taking up space in the mansion, so they just sent them over to us!"
Paupers... decayed...
Qi Chuan's fists couldn't help but slowly clench.
He was like a dog raised by the Fan Family, without dignity, without prospects, without anything.
In the rainy night, Madame Ma was still cursing: "Can't even piss and take a look at himself, the short-lived servant, you can't count on anything, making my whole family drink northwest wind..."
"Shut up!" Qi Chuan kicked over the table, and then the shrimp shells scattered all over the floor with a "clatter."
Madame Ma was stunned. In ordinary days, Qi Chuan never talked back when she cursed him; he was like a dumb gourd. She lifted her head to look at her normally reticent husband, only to see his eyes dark and gloomy, as if enveloped in raging fire, like a fierce ghost in the rainy night, staring ferociously at her.
