Xiaoying, when will the money your mother owed you be paid back? "
On the other end of the phone was my aunt Wang Hongmei's sharp voice, with a natural sense of matter-of-factness.
Song Ying held the phone tightly.
"Auntie, didn't you just pay back four thousand last time? "
Her voice was very soft, with an imperceptible tremor.
"Four thousand?
You have the nerve to say it!
When your mother was still alive, she borrowed so much money, which cost several thousand yuan a day. What would four thousand yuan be enough for?
It's not even enough to fill the gap between your teeth! "
Wang Hongmei's voice suddenly rose, as if Song Ying owed her millions.
Song Ying took a deep breath and tried to suppress the discomfort in her heart.
"I know, aunt, I'll find a way right now. "
She hung up the phone, her fingertips feeling cold.
Asking for money again.
Ever since her mother fell ill and passed away, this "home" seemed to have become a bottomless pit, constantly devouring her energy and money.
And she, like a drained puppet, worked desperately for that little bit of poor family affection, but could never fill their greed.
