As Pang Sheng left, he glanced at Pang Xiaohui and said, "You'd better watch yourself."
After saying that, he rode away on his bicycle.
"Xiaohui, your biological father is locked up inside. Do you want to go in and see him?" Feng's mother asked Xiaohui.
"What? He's locked up inside? Then where's my mom?" Pang Xiaohui exclaimed in surprise.
"Even this grandmother doesn't know. Do you want to see her?"
"I won't see him. He's in jail, why would I want to see him? Uncle, hurry up and carry me back," Pang Xiaohui said coldly.
"Alright, let's go then. Where did your mother go? Which wild man is so charming that he doesn't even care about his own daughter?" Mrs. Feng sighed.
At this time, Feng Zhu was indeed very "fragrant," covered in filth from head to toe, showing no trace of her former noblewoman appearance.
Within just two or three days, tiny insects were already crawling around in her disheveled, unkempt hair, which resembled a bird's nest.
Her hair was matted together, greasy like a rag that had been forgotten in a corner for years.
His body was covered with marks of all sizes, some from being hit, some from being pinched, and some from being bitten.
Even my lower body was not only painful and itchy, but also swollen and bleeding.
This filthy old man torments her all day long; she can't even die if she wants to.
Since she can't die, let someone else die.
Feng Zhu looked at the old man sleeping soundly on the bed and gently took a box of matches out of his pocket.
Although her hands were tied, she could still move all ten fingers.
I don't know what kind of person this old man is. He carries a box of matches everywhere he goes.
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