But he knew it was impossible.
That faint smile still hung on Chen Jiahang's face, a sarcastic one.
"Enough!" Mo Yixuan stared at him angrily, "Don't laugh! Fool!" He no longer wanted to see him smiling like that again.
How was he qualified to laugh at himself? A fool, a lazy man, a poor man who depended on women for money.
Chen Jiahang withdrew his indifferent mockery, "Mo Yixuan...". His voice was cold, even colder than Mo Yixuan's. He frowned and said, "Your ex-wife He Xiyan divorced you on December 26, 2019, and then you married your mistress Xia Yuwei and gave birth to a son. But ironically, that child is not your biological one, and you are still raising him. As for your son Yuanyuan, you took him from Yanyan with sly means. I believe that Yanyan committed suicide and was sold to our village by traffickers because of you. Think about it. Aren't you ridiculous?"
