"Old Pan, go call our daughter, let's take a walk downstairs together," Zhang Qiu Fang said.
Pan Guoliang was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. Hearing this, he set the paper down, slowly took off his glasses, sighed, and said, "You should go, she listens to you."
Upon hearing this, Zhang Qiu Fang, a bit angered, said, "What use are you?"
But even as she said this, she had already gotten up and walked toward the room.
Arriving at the door, she knocked lightly.
"Panpan, are you sleeping? I'm coming in."
Without waiting for a response, she pushed the door open and entered.
The lock on the door had long been broken, allowing free entry and exit.
It was already noon, but the curtains were drawn tightly. The sunlight barely seeped through the thick curtains, casting a dim light, making the room look somewhat hazy.
