Fu Fong stared at Bai Ming for a long moment.
The firelight reflected in his eyes.
This woman… was not the same Bai Ming he knew.
Before, she used to lower her head.
She used to follow him everywhere.
Even when he scolded her, she would only smile and endure it.
But now she stood there with a spatula in her hand, protecting her food like a warrior.
Fu Fong's face darkened.
"Enough," he said coldly.
He stepped forward.
"If you won't hand it over, I'll take it myself."
Bai Ming's eyes sharpened.
"Don't come closer," she warned.
But Fu Fong ignored her.
He walked straight toward the bundles beside her blanket.
Fu Qin and Fu Lin clung to Bai Ming's clothes, frightened.
"Mother…" Fu Lin whispered.
Bai Ming tightened her grip on the spatula.
"I said don't touch it."
Fu Fong bent down anyway.
Just as his hand reached the bundle—
A firm voice suddenly spoke.
"Stop."
Everyone turned.
A man had stepped forward from the watching crowd.
It was Han Fuji.
