Good daughter, the apple of one's eye, raised with the best food and clothes...
Ning Xia watched her father speak these lies without a blush or breath, and with every word he uttered, her disgust grew, overwhelming the sadness in her heart.
Before she was eighteen, it was her grandfather who raised her. After her eighteenth birthday, it was she who toiled from dawn to dusk, working ten part-time jobs a day to support herself and her mother.
In other words, besides providing a single sperm, he hadn't fulfilled any of his responsibilities as a father.
Fortunately, she had seen through him long ago and harbored no expectations whatsoever.
She was no Holy Mother, not someone who would take a beating without fighting back or tolerate insults without response, but she was capable of gratitude. This house was indeed built by her grandfather's own hands, and she couldn't just stand by and watch it be destroyed.
"Mr. Bo, let it go," Ning Xia said to Bo Siyan, her voice calm.
