The fellow in front of him was the person Zhang Dahu hated to the extreme.
He had seen him in the police station.
He watched as he interrogated his parents and grandparents, indifferent to their tears and pleas.
He heard them call him "Brother Cheng."
He hated Wang Wei, hated the villagers who humiliated them, but he hated this so-called Brother Cheng even more.
If it weren't for him, he and his little brother wouldn't have become children neglected by everyone, nor would they have been driven out of their home.
Su Yuncheng looked at the little guy's resentful face and pushed the steamed bun forward again: "If you starve to death, you won't be able to seek revenge on me."
This low form of provocation is negligible for adults, but for a nine-year-old child... it's quite effective.
Zhang Dahu stomped his foot, snatched the steamed bun from Su Yuncheng's hand, turned around, and ran back to the old house to stuff the steamed bun into Zhang Erhu's hands.
