When Chu Luo arrived outside the company door, she happened to hear a middle-aged woman raise her voice and accuse someone sharply.
"You heartless ingrate. If it weren't for Xiao Yue's family, how could you have the money to study in university? Now that you've studied and become successful, you've forgotten your roots, haven't you?"
"Mom, can we talk at my place first?"
Tang Zhiyun sounded helpless and tired.
Chu Luo stopped when she reached the door. She glanced at Tang Zhiyun's mother, who was a traditional and domineering middle-aged rural woman.
The young woman standing beside the middle-aged woman should be Xiao Yue.
Xiao Yue was petite and had average looks. She was splendidly dressed, and it was clear that she had put effort into dolling up.
