Qin Xiangnuan's heart felt wounded; she had long been aware that Qin Xiangnuan looked down on her, that no one in the village respected her, but she was human, a living, breathing human made of flesh and blood. She too could feel distressed, feel pain, and feel the sting of sorrow.
At this moment, Wen Zhi's nose tingled with a sourness that involuntarily brought heat to the corners of her eyes. She hurriedly turned her face away, not wanting Qin Xiangmei to see her cry. Wouldn't that make it even more embarrassing?
She stealthily wiped the tears from the corner of her eye.
When she turned back, the smile on her face was cautious and wary.
"Okay, I agree, but you have to promise to give me the 100 yuan."
"I'm not someone who goes back on her word," Qin Xiangmei placed the 100 yuan on the table, "as soon as you press your thumbprint, the money is yours."