The deafening banging on the door seemed to be tearing this dilapidated old residential building apart alive.
Lin Zhihui huddled in the most inconspicuous corner of the living room, curling up into a ball, trying to reduce his sense of presence.
The air was filled with the pungent smell of dust, sweat and cheap tobacco.
In front of her eyes, several fierce and strong men were smashing her nominal home to pieces.
"Lin Jianguo! Don't pretend to be dead for me! If you can't get the money out today, believe it or not, I will burn your shabby house!" The bald man in the lead kicked the coffee table, and glass shards were scattered everywhere.
"Brother, give me a few days of grace, just a few days!" Lin Jianguo, the adoptive father, knelt on the ground with a plop. There was a clear red handprint on his face that was swelling rapidly.
Adoptive mother Wang Xiuqin also knelt down, crying with snot and tears, and repeatedly chanted: "Please, we really have no money..."
