"Tian Sangsang, do you even have a conscience?" he questioned loudly.
Looking at the two of them, Meng Shuyan thought, Poor thing... Is Mom bullying Chun Zisu again...
Tian Sangsang reached out and touched her chest. Nonsense, my conscience is still here, alive and well. Such a strong heartbeat—what else could it be but my conscience?
"Zhao Chun, don't get so worked up. I get it, those few days each month always make one emotional and prone to tears. Listen to me, from someone who's been through it—stop crying. There's a saying: 'One tear equals ten drops of blood,' which is harm to your heart and kidneys. Why do this to yourself? When you're old, you'll regret the health problems you're causing now."
A metallic taste rose in Zhao Chun's throat. He glanced feebly at Tian Sangsang, then walked over to Meng Shuyan and handed him the malt sugar he was holding. "Xiaoyan, this is what Uncle bought for you."
