Xiao Ruobing cried unabashedly, tears and snot streaming down her face, not caring about her appearance.
"Ptui! What a downer!"
He Tiantian feigned disgust with a theatrical grimace and rudely spat, then abruptly changed her mocking tone, "Enough! Cut the crying already!"
"And you call yourself a 'rich and beauty'—crying like those village girls and shrews, same pathetic look!"
Xiao Ruobing's crying halted momentarily as a gleam of realization flashed in her eyes.
It seemed she had caught onto something significant.
With that thought, Xiao Ruobing resumed her bawling.
Imitating what she had seen in rural melodramas, she even tried rolling around on the ground like a villager throwing a tantrum.
He Tiantian suddenly felt an inexplicable sadness.
The apocalypse arrived, societal order collapsed, and the elderly, women, and children—already vulnerable groups—suffered the most.
It was acceptable for the strong not to protect the weak, but tormenting them was just vile.