Jiang Qiuyan looked at her sprawled-out, groaning subordinates and was so furious that she nearly spat up another mouthful of blood.
She pulled the contract from her bosom, equally enraged:
"Da Qiao, never mind who said what. It's all written clearly in black and white here. If you can't repay the debt, you'll give up your son to settle it. You personally stamped your fingerprint on this."
Su Qiao narrowed her eyes, then sneered. "Hmph. It isn't even dark yet, and the final deadline for repayment hasn't arrived. Even when it does, you still can't take my son to settle the debt."
Jiang Qiuyan gritted her teeth. "What do you mean?"
Su Qiao wore an arrogant expression. "Boss Jiang, I could read and write at three, and compose poetry at five. I'm proficient in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Why would I need to stamp a fingerprint?"
Pointing at the so-called contract, she mocked, "If this fingerprint is real, then you must have pressed my finger onto it while I was drunk. That violates the laws of the Great Su Dynasty."
The Original Avatar had indeed never signed anything like this.
Su Qiao didn't know where this thing had come from, but she absolutely couldn't admit to it.
"If you don't believe me, take a look at this."
Su Qiao casually picked up a fire poker burnt black at one end, walked to the somewhat dilapidated courtyard gate, and directly inscribed a poem on its faded surface.
The characters moved like dragons soaring through the heavens, magnificent and imposing, their biting chill striking straight into the face.
They were just like her at that moment, carrying an unmistakable sharpness and an unrestrained freedom.
Even those who couldn't read could tell how beautifully the characters had been written.
Everyone was dumbfounded.