When Yi Zhonghai's biological son moved into Nanluogu Lane, the old man looked at him with a teapot in his hands like a buyer. Bind to the daily check-in system and receive some grain, oil, rice and noodles every day. When Qin Huairu came to the door crying about poverty, he took out his household registration book and sneered: You have found the wrong person. My father is Yi Zhonghai, not your meal ticket.
