Mo Jingshen's eyes contained a deep, ink color. His lips curved up, but the smile was cold. "It means what the words mean."
The thin sheet masking over everything was publicly torn down. Mo Shaoze could no longer hold onto his bearings as his features distorted in rage. The father and son met eyes, and the living room turned cold like ice.
Father An, who sat by An Shuyan's side, did not speak. He raised his head and saw that although Mo Jingshen's expression was cold, his fingers were still intertwined with Ji Nuan's. His dress-pants-covered-legs were unhurriedly crossed, giving him a calm and casual appearance. However, his brows revealed the hypocrisy and the viciousness he carried above them.
It seemed like he did not plan on peacefully letting go of the incident where Ji Nuan was locked in the bathroom.
