"I beg you, please give me a few more days... I really have no money left."
The mother kneeling on the ground keeps kowtowing.
They've sold everything they could at home, and she really couldn't come up with any money.
"You old hag, you signed the guarantee letter yourself back then, assuring me you'd compensate my young master a million so he wouldn't be sent to the mental hospital. Now you're pretending to be a deadbeat. I'm telling you, if you don't come up with the money, I'll tear down your dog house."
The bald man leading the group said arrogantly, sneering.
"I've been sick these few days and can't go up the mountain... Give me two more days... I'll go pick mushrooms to sell, and then I can exchange them for money..."
The mother lay coughing on the ground incessantly.
Her emaciated frame was so ill these days; she had no strength left in her body.
"Whether you die or not is no concern to me. No money, right? Tear it down!"
