"Old Madam, as you can see, if it weren't truly my last resort, I wouldn't come to you asking for help."
Across the polished stone coffee table, Yan Xiaye's father—Yan Jianguo, rubbed his hands together, a pitiful yet shameless figure as he spoke hesitantly to the Old Madam, "Ever since donating bone marrow to the old master, Xiaye has not been feeling well. My wife indeed wants to nourish her, but the cost of those tonics is really..."
Clutching the saucer tighter, Yan Xiaye's face turned beet red with shame.
It was bad enough that her father had come to the Li Family to seek favors, but he was also constantly using her name.
Even if the Old Madam didn't hold it against her, could she really have such thick skin as to sit by and watch her family endlessly exploit the Li Family's generosity, which had already been repaid many times over?
"Butler, issue a check as usual."
