Song Rong and the others understood, and their expressions became even more unpleasant. Song Tingfan thought of something, turned around, and locked several doors, keeping the keys tightly in his pocket.
He won't give them away.
Not even if beaten to death.
Lin Qiaoxin silently gave him a thumbs up in her heart. Fortunately, he seemed soft on the outside but not in action; otherwise, her acting would be much more exhausting.
Song Liu glared at Song Tingfan. The little brat was guarding like a thief. She figured there must be something valuable inside, or why lock it up?
Her smile broadened, "Father, Mother, you've stayed with Tingfan long enough. Today we're taking you back. You should go pack up your things and any silver coins you have."
She had heard that Song Qin could earn hundreds of cents from doing embroidery in just a few days. By now, there should be at least one tael of silver.
