Regardless of whether he was calling to himself, Zhao Jin'er still walked over to the small table in three steps and two strides, poured a bowl of hot tea for him, and held it out.,Zhao Jin'er was a little surprised. At fourteen years old, she had never seen any man in Meng Village speak their grievances to their wives. Her uncle, however, would punch his wife whenever they disagreed.,"Drink some water." The man said again, as if instructing a child. "By the way, what's your name"。