In the thirty-fifth year after being used as a punching bag by his family, Shen Zhiqiang died of exhaustion while delivering food. Opening my eyes, I returned to my birthday. His wife Liu Shufen was slamming the door and scolding him for being useless. His younger brother Shen Zhiming came to borrow money with a smile on his face. His parents were sitting on the sofa waiting for him to pay for living expenses. Shen Zhiqiang slapped the last three hundred yuan in his pocket on the table: From today on, I will keep this money to raise my daughter. No one can take another point from me. The whole family got into a rage, calling him unfilial, selfish, and not a human being. Shen Zhiqiang smiled. You can scold me, good times are yet to come.
