"150 million just to buy a painting, poverty limits imagination. Can this painting turn into gold?"
According to Xu Bingfeng, three million was truly nothing for Lu Chenyuan.
Xu Bingfeng's eyes fixed on Chu Xiu, sizing her up and down, "I'm also working this hard for you and the two kids. If it weren't for you all, whether I'm rich or poor wouldn't matter, as long as I can have a meal, that's enough. Think about our current situation, we're about to lose our house, it will be taken away soon. I'm getting old, it's hard to find a job. Bao's tuition requires money, right? With Bao looking like that, he will need more money in the future. What will we do when we get older? You don't have social insurance, you can't even get a pension. Rely on Bao while he's still with us? It's not dragging the kids down, I definitely need to earn enough retirement money. Have you thought about all this?"
The things Xu Bingfeng spoke of reignited something in Chu Xiu's long-dead heart toward him.
