Yang Chún qiàn smirked at her fate. Dying by the hands of her son – she could never imagine that. She had always wanted a life full of power, position and pride.
Even though it was morning, it was cloudy outside. The gray clouds hung so low, she could hear them rumble while creating the electricity behind that thickness.
Yang Xinyu pointed his gun towards her. She closed her eyes waiting. All of a sudden there was a loud sound,
BANG
Yang Chún qiàn's eardrums were vibrated as she thought she would deafen when the bullet just grazed her ear and shattered the glass of the window behind her.
Slowly she opened her eyes. She felt something warm on her shoulder. It was her blood that was dripping from her ear. She laughed at him, "Hehe. Yang Xinyu, I knew you couldn't murder your mother."
"You are right, I can't," replied Yang Xinyu and slid his gun across the table to her. "Here, pick it up and put it on your temple. I want you to complete this job."
