After sending off the crowd of villagers, Yifan then asked An Qi and the others to get out of the car, then he and his parents, uncle, aunt, and the arriving third uncle and third aunt entered the house together.
The house in Yifan's family was very simple; it was a one-story red brick building, the surface had no tiles, and was in its most primitive state. The wooden anti-theft windows had no glass, only homemade curtains for covering; the main door was a wooden door that had been patched up after being damaged by termites, looking very decrepit.
Zhou Jiajia and An Qi had never seen such an ugly house before. In the past, they probably would not have entered these kinds of houses.
"Yifan, is this the house you grew up in?" An Qi asked curiously.
She really couldn't imagine how difficult Yifan's life had been before, as in her eyes, such a house was already very dilapidated.
