Mr. Jing hummed and then seemed to accept the situation. "This is my daughter, my dear daughter. How could she not leave some for me?"
The red BYD Song moved slowly along the pitch-black, muddy road, making SLOSHING sounds. The mud on the highway was already twenty centimeters deep and extremely sticky, making driving difficult.
The harsh weather outside contrasted sharply with the warmth inside the vehicle. Mr. Jing only turned on the heater when his daughter and wife were present.
Jing Shu lay sprawled in the back seat, warming herself up. Meanwhile, Fat Chicken, with a pork leg carefully suspended nearby, lay obediently in its custom-made mobile nest in the car, preening its feathers to make them look brighter and more beautiful. Fat Chicken's shoes were neatly arranged underneath, a testament to its care not to dirty the car.
It was quite a clean old hen.
Two large suitcases were mounted on the roof.
