Chapter 56-“Shanghai’s Summer Struggles: A Woman’s Echo in the Melody of Survival”

The twilight of May had already calmed the cold winter. The green leaves of the Changqing Tree on the side of the road were fluttering in the breeze, and a few bored sparrows were chattering incessantly. The Changqing Tree had greened for May and also made Xiao Xiaoxiao feel like it was green.

In May of her hometown, the sky was transparent, and the blue and blue really made people want to reach out and touch the clear river. Only small fishes and prawns had the right to comment.

Xiao Xiaoxiao and Zhao Mengru didn’t send out either. After three months, they didn’t take a single cent of their money. The boss would push them back and forth if they wanted money. There were still a bunch of thick envelopes that hadn’t been scribbled out, and Zhao Mengru had been copying them day and night. In his eyes, Zhao Mengru had become a double shadow. Xiao Xiaoxiao’s hands were not only in pain, but they were even struggling to eat and pick up chopsticks. His eyes were dry and bloodshot, and he didn’t even dare to look into the mirror for the past few days.If the envelope wasn’t copied, the magazine wouldn’t give money. The contract was signed and paid, but now it was a bit shy.

There are more complaints about poverty than usual, and the mood of poverty has been worse than usual.

Zhao Mengru didn’t complain. He had plenty of methods. It was as if there was nothing in this world that he couldn’t do. He couldn’t die from hunger because he had already died. His current life was already fulfilled. He was a little unsatisfied. Every time he thought of this, his heart ached and shrank.

Zhao Mengru’s face turned even colder, as if a layer of frost had formed over him.

“It’s time to write a letter to the family!”

Zhao Mengru muttered to himself. He took out a pen and paper and looked outside the window. After a long time, he stared blankly.

“Zhao Mengru, Zhao Mengru.”

Xiao Xiaoxiao shouted several times before he regained his senses.

“Ah, what is it?”

“Why aren’t you writing?”

“Write, I’ll write it to the ghost.”

Zhao Mengru tossed the brush aside, and his face was so dark that it was about to snow.

The man’s tears were not as gentle as women’s and lacked an artistic beauty. He was only showing his true feelings.