Song Huanyan looked at the several young thugs facing her.
They were all very tall, probably around twenty years old.
She, just a young girl…
Song Huanyan regretted it; she shouldn't have separated from Qiao Chuchu and the others.
If Qiao Chuchu had been there, she wouldn't have been scared.
Qiao Chuchu had been playing with knives and guns since she was young—a woman fighting several men wasn't a problem for her.
"Let's go, pretty girl," one of the thugs grabbed Song Huanyan's hand and dragged her away.
Song Huanyan frowned and shouted angrily, "Let me go... Let go... Help, help..."
They were now on a rather secluded street, and though it was off the beaten path, there were a few pedestrians.
But when people heard Song Huanyan's cries for help, they didn't come to save her; instead, they quickened their pace and left quickly.
Avoiding trouble.
Song Huanyan was angry; how could these people be so indifferent?