Jiang Zhihao knelt down and held the little girl in his arms.,The mother and child clung to each other, their faces etched with grief. It was a memory he would never forget, the most painful of his life.,Long ago, the two had already slept in separate rooms. Jiang Zhihao would come home drunk every day, reeking of alcohol, and he liked to get into drunken fights. Zhong Jiawei didn't want to disturb the child.。