In the dead of night, within a residential compound, the sudden sound of a shattering glass bottle erupted.
Bang! The crisp noise was somewhat piercing in the dead of night.
Zhang Zhiqiang knew that it was the sound his well-behaved daughter feared the most.
As long as he shattered the liquor bottle, even if it was money she had earned with her life, she would hand it over.
That was the way it was between this mother and daughter.
When Haoyun was young, he had used this very bottle to repeatedly smash it onto her mother's head.
As the bottle shattered, so did her mother's skull, pleading frantically in pain, while Haoyun stood by, too frightened to even cry out, afraid that the bottle would smash onto her head as well.
This was the nightmare of Haoyun's childhood.
When she was young, all she wanted was to escape from that remote place.
In this world, there is a saying—the higher the divorce rate, the more equal the relationship between men and women.