"Hey, you're stepping on my stuff," a youthful boy's voice sounded from the side.
Tang Mo looked down at her feet. Sure enough, her foot was on a white short-sleeved shirt. When she moved it, a large footprint was left behind.
"This trick again," the man running the stall next to them said disdainfully, rolling his eyes. "He really thinks people are fools."
The boy sat behind his stall, biting his lip tightly. In his arms, he held a large, panting Golden Retriever.
Noticing the Golden Retriever, Tang Mo couldn't help but take a second look.
'In this age of famine, only people like Uncle Wen would keep a dog just to make their wives happy. How could an ordinary family possibly afford a pet?'
'People can barely stay alive themselves. Who would be willing to share their food with a pet? It's a wonder they haven't eaten their own pets already.'
