"Dad, Mom, don't sell me. I can do a lot of work. I only need one meal every two days."

The heart-rending wail tore through the crowd, painful enough to make anyone's insides twist.

Twelve- or thirteen-year-old Zhang Cuier stood there with a sallow face and dry yellow hair, looking at her parents as she begged through tears.

But when Zhang Ergou and his wife saw her like that, they felt not the slightest bit of reluctance. The only thing in their eyes was Landlord Qian's silver.