Mrs. Sang shook her head, crying torrents of tears. She knew all too well that what Sang Zheng had just said was not out of anger, but serious.
But she could not compromise, nor would she seek out Sang Qiao to repair the mother-daughter relationship.
Her aversion and disgust towards Sang Qiao were almost as if etched into her DNA, and for this Sang Zheng was also to blame, though he would never understand it.
Mrs. Sang's heart grew increasingly panicked. She reached out and clutched Sang Jiao's arm tightly, like a person nearing death grasping at the last straw.
"Jiaojiao, you're all I have left. You won't leave me, right?"
"Of course not, it's okay, I have shares, I can support you," Sang Jiao said, feeling a sticky sensation on her arm—it was Mrs. Sang's snot and tears.
She held back her disgust and gently patted her back.
"Jiaojiao, meeting you is probably one of the luckiest things in my life," Mrs. Sang said, breaking into a smile through her tears.
