"You..." Tang Yujia, upon hearing those words, furiously struck the man with her small purse. Her group of friends seemed to have understood what the man was saying as well, as none of them stepped forward to help. They were accustomed to spending Tang Yujia's money, after all. If Tang Yujia's family were to go bankrupt and she really became a dance hostess, they would all draw clear lines of separation from her.
Looking at her friends who did not offer any help, Yujia snorted coldly, hailed a taxi nearby, left that group behind, and gave the driver her home address.
When Tang Yujia returned home in a bad mood, the lights were only on in the large hall. The hall no longer felt like the home she knew. The vintage sofa was gone, replaced by a few large chairs. The house was so quiet that only her father, incessantly smoking in one of the large chairs, could be heard.
