Ding Ling shook her wheelchair, took a few steps, and, having skipped breakfast and feeling weak, her annoyance escaped through her words, "I have already spared you any trouble by allowing you to marry my father. From now on, don't call me Xiao Ling; it sounds just like you're calling your dead daughter."
Wei Ruqin bit her lip tightly, her face, too youthful for her age, twisted in contention. She had sacrificed so much, even forsaken her own daughter, cringing before this disabled wretch for a life of enviable comfort; as these thoughts circled her mind, her beautifully manicured long fingernails dug into her palm.
