As they were leaving, there was a commotion at the entrance of the teahouse.
Aunt Ruan had already stopped smiling and was standing next to the table, with a young girl who was a bit taller than her by her side. With her face slightly red from anger and wearing an apron, she stood in front of Aunt Ruan.
In front of the two women, there stood a group of about four or five people. Little Fatty was no longer crying now,
clinging to the hand of a woman beside him, tilting his little head up, looking like he was waiting for someone to back him up.
The woman's voice could be heard before they had even approached.
She seemed like a competent and strong businesswoman, with a cold demeanor, dressed in a business suit, holding Little Fatty's hand. At a glance, it seemed like the mother and son didn't belong in the same world.
However, the disdain and scorn evident in the woman's eyes and demeanor oddly mirrored those of Little Fatty.
