Zhou Shiran stammered. "I've put it away; whenever you give the money to An Ning, I'll give it to you."
"No need, I'll keep it myself. And I've changed my mind—it's better to give the money to the child first. That way, she might not hate and be so disappointed in me as her father." An Jiancheng was eager to please his daughter, wondering if she might listen to him if he treated her better.
Talk her mom out of remarrying?
Just the thought of Yujie possibly marrying that man surnamed Song made An Jiancheng's mood uncontrollably sour. He felt so much pain that he didn't want to do anything but keep her with him.
"If you don't want to take the money for my brother, then forget it. I have soup simmering on the stove; I'm going to go turn off the burner," Zhou Shiran made an excuse to leave.
An Jiancheng glared at her. "Wait, where's my money, where did you put it? Give it to me now."
"I put it upstairs. Whenever you give the money to An Ning, I'll bring it to you."