Brian had no idea that in Yin Han's eyes, this set of clothes that cost less than a hundred yuan had clearly become ironclad evidence that his life was not going well. When Hang Anhe was in the Hang family, he was a proper young master. Which piece of clothing he wore was not of a well-known brand?
It's nothing like today, where people wear these cheap brands and squat on the roadside trying to persuade street vendors to leave.
He pulled his windbreaker closer, and a faint feeling of pity welled up in his heart. Of course, this pity was mixed with a bit of unmistakable pride, and even his tone of voice had some meaning in it: "An He, why are you doing this?"
He lit a cigar, took a slow puff, and watched the smoke from his fingertips gradually dissipate.
"I don't care about what happened back then. If you're having such a hard time, why don't you admit it to me?"
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